


The Sins of Eve

by ElmOak1991



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Child Abuse, Drama, F/M, Murder, Other Triggers, Rape, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:34:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 42,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23471770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElmOak1991/pseuds/ElmOak1991
Summary: Summary: Evelyn wanted nothing more than to escape her father's web for good, but after five years, she's forced back into the world of lies. Mission? Spy on Sherlock Holmes, the only man who could possibly stop her father's latest schemes, and make sure he doesn't catch on to them.Sherlock pays no mind to one Evelyn Clarke. That is until he realizes there's more to the woman then he originally thought.John Is quite taken with Evelyn, the kind woman who moved in downstairs. He means to pursue her, that is until he realizes Sherlock as taken interest. Does this mean Sherlock has finally found someone to love?
Relationships: Sherlock/OC
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Blackmail

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is my first Sherlock fic and I admit I'm a bit nervous. This fic is not for the faint of heart. There will be trigger topics including but not limited to, child abuse, rape, and murder. If these topics are a trigger please do not read. Also I'm American, I'm not sure all my wording is right. Please if you see me calling something the wrong word let me know and I'll make note of it for future use. This fan fic will be pairing Sherlock with an OC. I will do my best to not make her a Mary sue. In my mind she is a well-rounded person and I hope to get that through to my readers. John is a big part of the story as well and I do not ignore their special bond. Also note that I've made Rosie younger then I believe she was when Mary passed away. I know she was a bit older where we left of in the show, but chose to ignore that. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of The Sins of Eve

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. All credit goes to the writer/creators of the show**

  
………

Evelyn was a creature of habit. Someone who liked things structured and planned. She liked knowing that everything would fall into place exactly as she wanted. She didn’t like surprises or spontaneity. Everything had a place, and a time. Or at least that's what she would have you believe.

In reality, she was bored of the same routine. The same people, the same places. The fact that she knew what would happen every day, and when. But this was the price she paid for freedom. The price she paid for leaving her life of crime behind her.

When she found herself on the run five years ago she wasn't sure what to do with herself. The people she fled had given her an out, but she knew that without the pardon, that they would be able to find her, and bring her back to the life she despised, and worse, the men she despised.

She ended up in this small town in Connecticut, where everyone knew everyone, and if a new face were to show up, and seem suspicious in any way, she was bound to hear about it. She felt safer being in an environment she knew. There wasn't a route within fifty miles she didn’t know. She also decided that having a routine versus not having one was better. They would suspect that she wouldn’t do things routinely because that's what people are told to do when they are on the run. Don’t settle. Never do the same thing twice in the same place. She decided to do the opposite in hopes that they wouldn’t look for that pattern.

This morning was like every other one. She woke, had coffee, ate half a bagel, and was currently on her morning run. Evelyn waved at her neighbor, Mr. Jenkins, who was tending to his garden. Well, actually, it was Mrs. Jenkins garden, but she had passed the year before, and Mr. Jenkins kept it up. He had told her that Mrs. Jenkins would stop by on occasion, and she would haunt him if she saw her garden ruined.

Down the usual nature trail, Evelyn knew all the faces. Abby and Donna were twins who were obsessed with looks, so she passed them every morning on their way back to their house. Colby was often found chatting up one of the woman runners, and today was no different. Stephanie ran with her for a couple minutes, catching her up on the gossip. Apparently the widow Snider has been spending time with Tim, which would be fine if Tim wasn't married to Cathy.

Evelyn stopped for water and to catch her breath at the cliff. It was a spot of the mountain that jutted out so you could see a wonderful view of the valleys below. This was one of her favorite views in Connecticut . Not that she had seen all of Connecticut, mind you.

She was about to start back up when her phone went off. Assuming it was Rachel, she didn’t bother looking at caller ID before answering. "Hey, you."

"It's breathtaking view, isn't it," Elijah replied.

That deep eerie voice made her blood run cold, and her heart skip a beat. Evelyn Looked around her, but she saw no one. She was currently alone on this part of the trail. Or at least alone as far as she could see. Her throat was dry, so she had to swallow a few times before she could respond. "What do you want?" There was no point in asking how he found her. That part was simple enough.

"Can’t a father call his child to say hello?" His deep voice and British accent were so familiar to her, and she wanted to scream.

Que the nausea. "Not when that father is you." Evelyn did another pass on her surroundings. He must be somewhere in the woods. Or maybe he'd scouted the area beforehand, and her routine.

"Dearest Ivy, you look a bit off color, you feeling well?"

"My name is Evelyn," She replied. She hated when he called her Ivy. Perhaps it was because that's what she was called in her old life. "I asked you a question." She sounded braver than she felt. Could he really see her? Or was he just messing with her head?

"I thought you liked the nick name I'd given you?" He paused with a snicker. Ah well, I am in need of my best spy."

"No."

"You don’t even know the assignment yet."

"I don’t need to. I have no interest in being in your web again."

"You were never out of my web, Ivy. I never pardoned you!" His voice was angry for a moment, but he quickly composed himself. "Now, I think it's time for a bit of incentive. That's a sweet boy you've got there. How old is he? About four I'd say."

Evelyn's heart dropped. How? How had he known about Oliver? "What are you talking about?" she asked as calm as she could, but she was already walking again, heading instinctively in the direction her son was.

"I know everything. You didn't think I would know my own blood? I have to admit that I'm disappointed he's blind. Can't really steal if you’re blind can you? What's with the clicking sounds he makes?"

"We aren’t really blood," Evelyn reminded him. Her phone beeped, indicating that someone was trying to ring through.

"You should get that. It’s Rachel and I'm sure she's frantic that Oliver is missing,"

No! her head yelled as she switched over. "Rach…"

"He's gone! I went upstairs for just a minute. I was just changing my pants! Oh god, my baby!"

"It's okay, Rachel. I know where he is," she said the words in a soothing tone even as her own stomach rolled.

"It's them, isn't it?"

Evelyn didn’t need Rachel to be more specific than that. Rachel knew what she had been in, and when she asked Rachel to raise Oliver as her own, Rachel knew the why of it, and that this could be an outcome. "I promise you, I will get him back. I'll do whatever it takes." Rachel sobbed, echoing the cries in Evelyn's own heart. "I'll see you soon, okay. Just please don’t call the cops."

Evelyn switched back to her nightmare, "What is my mission?"

* * *

"That's bloody brilliant!" John said as he and Sherlock climbed up the stairs of 221B Baker street.

"It was obvious," Sherlock retorted with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Sherlock, you could tell from a cry that Rosie was hungry. A cry."

"Rosie has five different cries, John. I've just merely observed them."

John looked at Sherlock with admiration and annoyance. It was a Sherlock thing to do. To note that the baby has more than one cry. It sounded all the same to him. "What different cries does she have?" he inquired.

"Hungry, tired, wet, wants held, uncomfortable." Sherlock replied as he scrolled through their potential case list.

Sherlock looked up at John has he put Rosie in the portable crib. He smiled a bit at the man, though he would never let John see. He often found himself admiring his best friend. John was, in fact, only one of the very few people Sherlock could even stand, and the only one he admired.

He looked away quickly when John faced him. "Anything good?"

"All boring," Sherlock complained as he plopped into his chair. "So many of the same." He waved his hand dismissively before bringing them together, and to his chin. "I need a good case."

"We can work a boring one until something better comes along," John suggested.

Sherlock looked over at Rosie, and was about to point out that they couldn’t really work a case with Rosie, when Mrs. Hudson's voice drifted up from down the stairs.

"My goodness how you've grown!"

Sherlock's brows pulled together as he went down to investigate. Down the stairs was a woman with a few suitcases and bags. "Moving in?" Sherlock said, already knowing that was the case. Mrs. Hudson watched him with worried eyes. She rocked from one foot to the other, indicating that she was nervous.

"Sherlock, this is Evelyn Clarke. My good friend's niece. She will be staying in the empty flat." she looked back at Evelyn. "How is Jenny? She sounded sick over the phone."

"She's doing well." She replied to Mrs. Hudson, before looking at the guys. "It's nice to meet you," Evelyn held out her hand, but Sherlock didn’t take it. He was looking at her as if he were x-raying her.

Sherlock decided at once that she was ordinary, and wouldn’t give them any trouble. She clearly has spent time in America recently. Given that she only had two cases, a bag, and small trunk, she left in a hurry. Or perhaps she isn't the sentimental kind. Right handed, nervous compulsion to swipe bangs to the side.

"Nice to meet you, I'm John Watson," John said, pushing past Sherlock to shake the woman's hand.

Evelyn smiled and nodded.

Sherlock watched as John did the gentlemanly thing to do, and help Evelyn to her flat. Deciding that he wasn’t at all interested, he made his way back upstairs. Surely there had to be something worthwhile to solve!

* * *

"It's a bit of a fixer upper, but at least we were able to get the mold out," Mrs. Hudson said as she went to the curtains to opened them. "You have everything you need in the kitchen, but you will have to invest in a washer-dryer if you don’t want to go to the launderette."

"This is really great. I appreciate you taking me in," Evelyn replied. The flat was a nice one. Smaller than the one in Connecticut, but this was temporary, and necessary.

"Do you have any furniture, dear?"

"I've ordered some. The load should be arriving soon."

"Well then, I'll leave you to it. I'll make tea and biscuits if you feel like a cuppa." With that, Mrs. Hudson left.

"So, you’re the neighbors," she said conversationally to John.

"Sort of. Sherlock lives upstairs, but I'm over quite a bit. If you ever need anything, please don't be afraid to knock."

Evelyn thought about how dismissive Sherlock had been. "You sure about that? Sherlock doesn't seem like the helping hand type."

"Ah well, he can be a bit of a dick, but he will help if asked."

"I think that depends on who's doing the asking."

"Yes well." John cleared his throat.

"I will knock if I need anything. Thank you."

* * *

"She's not the one for you," Sherlock said to John as he entered the room.

"Piss off," John replied, as he sat in his chair. He thought about the dark haired woman he just met. She was a beauty for sure, and those Soft hazel eyes captivated him. Naturally, Mary popped into his head, and he felt his heart ache. He wasn't ready for anything serious just now. So what would it matter if he had a good time with the wrong one? "Why not?"

"She's not looking for anything serious. She doesn’t plan on being here long term. Whatever she's doing here, it's not something she wants to be doing." Sherlock looked over at John. "You need someone long term. Someone you can rely on to care for Rosie."

"Did it occur to you that maybe I'm just looking for a good time?"

Sherlock thought that over. "Oh, well in that case, she's perfect for you."

Sherlock smiled to himself. It was good to see John showing interest. After Mary, he was afraid for his best friend. Greif had brought John down a lonely path that was darkened by the flirtatious texts John had kept from Mary. John felt as though he cheated on her, and once she was gone, that was a guilt John would have to live with.

Sherlock pulled out his violin. The song that filled the room was beautiful, original and brought tears to John's eyes. It was the song Sherlock had composed and played for them at their wedding. A month ago he would have told Sherlock to stop, but he found himself comforted by the melody more then it saddened him.

Sherlock played as he looked out the window. The street below was as it always was. The same people coming and going. The taxes and cars zipping by. Mrs. Hudson stood by the truck along with Evelyn, and the two seemed to be directing the movers. What should go in first?.

Every now and again, Evelyn would look around her, surveying her surroundings. The action seemed so natural, he doubted she was even aware she did it. Hmm, maybe not so dull after all. A troubled childhood. Or maybe on the run. No, not on the run. She doesn’t seem nervous. Just cautious.

Rosie's cries broke through his thoughts. He regarded her with a mixture of love (yes, love) and mild annoyance. Rosie seemed to be more fussy of late.

"Come now, Rosebud," John said cheerfully as he lifted her into his arms. "Daddy's here." John bounced her in his arms as he swayed side to side. "All's well," he cooed.

"Don’t do the baby talk, John. It'll slow her speech development."

"Really now? And how would you know?" Sherlock didn’t hold on to anything he would consider useless information.

"I…Happened upon it on the internet."

John smiled at Sherlock. "I see." He had to hold back a laugh. "So, how often do you happen upon information about child development?"

"Shut up," Sherlock replied. He started playing again, cutting off any further discussion, and Rosie's cries. It did Sherlock good to see her regard him with fascination. She would grow up good indeed. He had done enough reading to ensure it.

* * *

Evelyn looked about her space after everything was said and done. She chose bright colors to contrast the darkness she felt inside. Why be depressing on both the inside and out? She did feel a little out of place though. Her yellow sofa isn't something she would usually go for, and the orange chairs did nothing to tie the room together. Her curtains were yellow with an orange floral print. The color scheme was not her favorite, but it fit the personality she chose.

Evelyn Clarke, she had to use her real name because Mrs. Hudson already knows her. Or of her. She remembers meeting the woman twice over the course of her life. Jenny was her "fathers" sister. She would sometimes bring her out with her and therefore when they saw Mrs. Hudson Jenny introduced her as her niece So the name had to be the same. But her personality needed to be friendly and helpful. She's a kind hearted young woman who has just come back from her travels around America. Someone who's a bit shy, so it's not going to be a surprise when she says very little. Someone who will simply be in the background.

Luckily, her bedroom was a different story. Seeing how it was unlikely that anyone of importance would see her room, she toned down the bright. There she chose deep blue and white as her color scheme. It was simply decorated with a few paintings that caught her eye over the years. Her favorite was of a mother and daughter cheerfully splashing around in a puddle as it rained. Maybe she would move that one to the living room. It would fit the happy colors there.

Evelyn sat on her bed, exhausted from the days work. Now that she was unpacked and settled in, it was time for the act to really begin. John was obviously her way in. He was nice, and she believed him when he said to knock any time she needed them. She wasn't surprised at this, however. She spent a great deal of the previous week reading John Watson's blog, as well as anything else she could find on the famous duo. So far, each man was living up to her expectation.

She closed here eyes when she heard the knock on her door. "Evie?" Mrs Hudson called from the front door.

Evelyn quickly put a smile on her face, and opened way for Mrs. Hudson. "Hey."

"Hello, dear. I just wanted to be sure you were settling in alright."

"Yeah, I'm all unpacked, and settled. Thank you"

"Not a problem, dear. If you need anything, don't be afraid to ask."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."

After saying goodnight, Evelyn bathed, before settling into bed for the night. Tomorrow the real work began.  
……

**I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated. Thanks :D**


	2. Negotiations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: In this chapter there's mention of suicide and how Evelyn thinks its selfish. I do not agree with these views, but it makes since for her to see it this way. Just wanted to put that out there. I hope you all enjoy the chapter. Happy reading :D

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. All credit goes to the writer/creators of the show**

**...**

**Two Weeks Ago**

Evelyn paced the room they put her in. It looked like an interrogation room in the criminal shows. It had a table and two chairs as well as a mirror she assumed was a two way one. On the table sat an ice bucket, whiskey and two glasses. The coldness of the room did what is was meant to do. She was on edge, and that was not likely to change while in this room. It borderlines being too small.

After what felt like forever, the door opened to a large man, not large as in overweight, large as in tall and muscular. The man stood six feet and three inches, his black hair was as it always was, cut short, and those gunmetal grey eyes were cold as steel.

"Evan," Evelyn greeted, crossing her arms over her chest, and planting her feet. It was nothing more than a show. She felt like a feather could knock her over, but it made her look steady, and that's what counted.

Evan said nothing. He stepped aside, revealing the man who raised her. The man she detested. "Evan, you haven't greeted our guest."

"Nice to see you," Evan said after grinding his molars.

"Oh lookie there! He does speak," Evelyn replied. She watched as he fought for control, and lucky for her, he won. Even was always an arsehole. As kids he liked locking her in closets, or pushing her in the pool. Sometimes he would do something bad, and blame her.

"Must you always cause a ruckus?" Elijah remarked, annoyed at his youngest child.

"Sorry, Elijah. Apparently being away hasn't changed me as much as I hoped."

"Elijah? Does father no longer suite you?" Elijah walked over to the table where the whiskey sat. He poured out two glasses, holding one up to her.

"I didn't come here for pleasantries, and you are not my father." A father wouldn't treat his child the way he treated her. Hell, the way he treats all woman is horrible, but he seemed especially terrible to her.

"You have a lot of nerve to disrespect father!" Evan spat. "You've always been an ungrateful little twit!"

"And your nose will forever be stained brown!"

"Why you little…"

"Leave us, Evan, your sister and I have business to discuss," Elijah cut in.

"Good boy!" Evelyn called after him, but was cut off short by the closing of the door. She shifted her attention to Elijah, and wished Evan would come back. At least that way she wasn't alone with the monster who haunted her dreams.

"You've got nerve, Ivy. I'll give you that. Sure you don't want a drink?"

Evelyn! My name is Evelyn! Her brain screamed. "Can we get to why I'm here? What is it you want from me?"

Elijah chuckled. "You've got a fire in yah. That's one of the reasons I took you in. I knew you'd be worth it to me."

"I would have fared better on the streets," she countered.

"You would have been dead in months."

"Better than the abuse I suffered at your hands. The hands of your men! The things you made me do…" She broke off. No, she wasn't going to think about that now. Not now. There was no point at any rate. Rehashing her abusive past would do nothing for her now. Besides, Elijah would never admit to any wrong, because he believes he's right in the way he raised her.

"I taught you how to steal. How to survive. I taught you how to fake your way in society to come out on top. I took your talent for theatrics, and molded it into a survival skill. Everything you know is because I taught you." He said this all calmly. He was used to her ungratefulness and attitude.

"You taught me that men can use woman how they please. You taught me that love means nothing. You taught me that money and power are the only things that bring true happiness." Jesus, he taught her how to be a damn whore. To use men for their money. To get close to said men to steal from, and find a reason to blackmail them. That's what she was to him. A pretty face with a nice body. "Everything I hate about myself, you taught me."

"Perception dearest, Ivy. I taught valuable lessons. How you took them is on you. Now, on to what I brought you here for. I need you to be my eyes and ears. I have an elaborate heist on the horizon. Something I've been planning for years. But I need the best of the best, therefore I need to test my men. A contest if you will. While all the burglaries shouldn't be able to be connected, there is one man who can connect the dots if he looks close enough, and I need to know the moment he starts looking."

"You need me for this? Breanne or Willy could do that."

"I need a professional liar. Someone who can live the role given to her. Someone who will not mess up the lie." Elijah lifted is glass in salute to her. "You are the best. Prettier than Breanne, bless her heart. You know how to bend men's wills. I think you could get closer than anyone else I know."

Evelyn sat now. Yes, she was good at living a lie. That was the only way she survived her childhood. She used to pretend that someone would come rescue her. Or that the abuse was happening to someone else. Anyone else. She once spent an entire year pretending she was a boy. She acted like one, dressed like one. Though looking back she supposed that's when Elijah realized she was capable of living a lie. She had convinced anyone who didn't know her that she was, in fact, a boy.

"You need a spy? That's all? No thieving? No killing?"

"Not from you. You just need to know what this man is doing. I want you to learn who he is, and what makes him weak."

She was about to ask why he would need that kind of information, but the answer came to her before she asked. Of course he would want to know what his weakness was. He would use it to keep the man off his trail. "Who is this man? Why do you think he will get on to you?" Elijah was a smart man. He planned for things months in advance. He had contingency plans for his contingency plan.

"Sherlock Holmes. A bit of a celebrity in the recent years. You will have to read up on him. He is not a man who misses much. He has an immense intellect. One shouldn't doubt his abilities. He has taken down some of the best criminals I know."

Sherlock Holmes? Yeah, the name rang a bell. "What of Oliver? You going to keep a child from his mother for months?"

Elijah seemed to consider her words. "I'm willing to make some kind of arrangement. If the boy's caretaker is willing to cooperate."

"Rachel is his mother. Treat her as such."

"That woman shouldn't be raising my grandson. My daughter should be."

"I'm not your daughter, and Oliver his not your grandson." She paused. " How did you know? Really know? Obviously he's not actually your blood like you said."

"Frances saw you a few months after you left us. You were both in South Carolina I believe it was. She rang me up and congratulated me on the expansion of the family. Then when I looked in on you a few months ago, I put two and two together."

Frances has always had a big mouth. She remembered seeing Frances then, but she was unaware that Frances had seen her. "I should have left. I shouldn't have been stupid enough to stick around." She rubbed her hands on her face. Something she did when stressed.

"Yes, well. A mother doesn't easily leave her child."

Was there admiration is his tone? "Will have Rachel come here? To London?" Evelyn asked, redirecting the conversation back to what was really important.

"Yes. I will put them up in one of my flats. Guarded of course. Don't want the two running off in the middle of the night."

Evelyn took the glass of whiskey and downed it. The glass met the table with a loud thud as the liquid burned her throat. She really didn't want to do this.

"Do we have a deal?"

Do I have a choice? She thought to herself. "If I do this, Oliver goes unharmed?"

"Yes. The boy will not me touched."

She thought it over a moment. "I want pardoned. If I do this, Oliver and I will never be called upon by you. We are free forever." She wouldn't have Oliver in this life. She would do anything to ensure that he lived a normal life. Sure, he was blind, but Elijah was the type of bastard who could make use of anyone.

It was Elijah's turn to finish his drink, though he did it slower, and put the glass down softly. "Your son will go unharmed, and you will both get my pardon."

Evelyn stood now. She was more than ready to get out of this room. "Where do I find this Sherlock Holmes?"

Elijah stood as he pulled out a file from his suit jacket. "I had my sister get ahold of an old friend. They were close once a long time ago. She said her niece needed a place to stay for a bit while she got resettled into London."

"Aunt Jenny?" Evelyn stood there confused. Jenny was fifteen years older than Elijah, and from what she understood, died a year or so ago. She was devastated to find it out, and felt sick about missing the funeral. Jenny was the only person to ever show her kindness. "I thought she had passed."

"And where did you hear such things?"

"I have friends in your circle. I was informed by one ." She watched the anger creep onto his face, but he covered it up quickly.

"Her death was never announced. Therefore, Mrs. Hudson is unaware it took place. She agreed to give you the extra flat. You, of course, need to pay rent, but she would give you a deal on that. I have taken care of the rent for the first six months. I will give you cash for anything else you might need."

Evelyn took the file, as well as the envelope that was no doubt filled with said cash. He informed her that there was a car waiting for her. She was to spend a week at one of his places, then relocate to 221B Baker street. She opened the door and was about to leave when her curiosity got the best of her. "What do you plan on stealing? What is so important that you need to make sure this guy doesn't see?"

Elijah smiled at her. "That is information I will not share until necessary."

"Then how am I supposed to know if Sherlock is barking up your tree?"

"I will keep you posted. Off you go now. I have appointments to keep."

He didn't have to tell her twice. She left the room as quickly as she could. Once in the car, she took her first full breath in what felt like forever. She hated that man with everything she had. But this was her way out, and she had to do it. No matter how much it turned her stomach.

* * *

**Now**

Sherlock sat in his chair, and hardly listened as the woman tearfully explained that her husband wouldn't commit suicide. Why would he? What with the job promotion and the baby on the way. He looked across the way to John, who looked at the woman with sad, compassionate eyes.

"From what I can see, there doesn't seem to be anything suggesting otherwise," John said, in a soothing tone.

"I'm suggesting otherwise!" the woman argued. "He's the happiest man I know." She looked down at her hands. "Knew," she corrected.

"Do you know of anyone who would want him dead?" Sherlock put in. John looked at him with questioning eyes, but he ignored that.

The woman thought it through a moment, but shook her head. "No, not that I can think of."

"Lie." Sherlock said, leaning forward in his chair. "You paused. Most people would respond immediately, but you had to think it through. Your husband wasn't a lawyer, or someone in the public eye, he was a professor, so why would you have to think about it? Who came to mind?"

The woman looked at him puzzled. "I…Well Josh comes to mind. They have been friends for years, but things have been horrible between them."

"So bad you think he'd want your husband dead?"

"I wouldn't think it, but the last time they were together, Josh told Andrew that he could kill him, because he's so angry."

"And what did they have the falling out over?" Sherlock cut in.

"I don't know. They went away for a weekend. About..." The woman thought about it just a moment. "Oh, about five months ago. It was right after I told Andrew about the baby." She put her hand on her belly now. A protective notion.

"Mrs. Hunt, I'm sorry to inform you this, but I do believe your husband committed suicide."

"Oh, sorry boys!" Mrs. Hudson said, as she walked in the open door, With the new tenet on her heels. The woman, Eve? Evelyn? Kept her head down. She didn't avoid eye contact, but didn't initiate it either. "I thought you could do with some lunch."

The ladies went over to the table, and the guys brought their attention back to Mrs. Hunt. "You're husband went on these weekends with Josh often?"

"Yes. Once a month. Why?"

"Mrs. Hunt." Sherlock's eyes flicked to John and he could see John understood. "Your husband was involved with Josh. When you told him of your pregnancy, he then wanted to cut romantic ties with Josh, which lead to their falling out. The separation from his lover was far too much to bare, yet he couldn't, no wouldn't, shame you by getting a divorce so he could be free to be with Josh. But being away from Josh was equally heartbreaking. He thought suicide was the best option. To his mind, the only one.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Hudson said, sending Mrs. Hunt a look of pity.

After a minute or so, Mrs. Hunt rose slowly, clearly Sherlock's deductions made everything click into place, because the woman went from fighting the idea of suicide, to silent understanding. Like things that made no sense before, fell into place. "Thank you for your time." Her eyes filled with tears that she refused to shed.

Once she was gone, John let out a long breath. "Poor woman."

Sherlock went to the window as he nodded. Cases like this reminded him of Mary. She didn't take her own life per se, but she took a bullet for him, and effectively ended her life.

"It's selfish," a voice Sherlock wasn't yet used to, said. He assumed it was Evelyn who spoke, but didn't bother to look at her. "To take your own life. It's the ones left behind that suffer. I mean, I get hurting so bad that I can't take it anymore, but you end your own suffering at the expense of those who love you?"

"You've had experience with that?" John asked.

Evelyn didn't reply right away, but eventually said, "No. Not personally."

Sherlock turned to see her leave. "She's lying, you know."

"Yeah. It doesn't take a genius to see that." John stood. "I'm off to get Rosie." he went by the table on his way out to snag a sandwich, then nodded his head in goodbye to Sherlock.

Sherlock stood where he was a moment longer before sitting back down at his laptop. Seriously, there had to be something good to fall in their laps. He truly was going crazy.

* * *

"My son," the man paused, his voice shaking. "My only boy was murdered."

John looked over the reports. "It says here that he overdosed."

"I know what the reports say. But I'm telling you, he didn't. Liam had been clean for years."

"Mr. Dixon, addicts can go years without using, that doesn't mean that at some point they won't use again. You're always an addict. That never goes away."

John looked at Sherlock, and he wished he could disagree with him, but it was true. A fact that was always on his mind. There is nothing worse than having to wonder which event pulls your loved one back into their habits, or which use takes their life.

"Please, I beg of you to look into it. Something just isn't right." Mr. Dixon's eyes were pleading.

"We will look into it," John said, giving Sherlock his 'be nice' look.

"Fine, we will look into it, but I'm sure it's a waste of time." Sherlock stood then. "We will ring you to let you know what we do, or don't, find."

Mr. Dixon stood a bit flustered and thanked them, though he seemed unsure that they would actually look into it. He left quickly, and with a prayer that they would find it in their hearts to look.

"Liam had been clean for ten years," John mumbled to himself.

Sherlock looked at John. "As I said, once and addict, always an addict."

"The amount of drugs in his system was lethal. Why would an experienced addict take so much?"

"People are idiots, Watson. They don't calculate right."

"Well, let's get to work, shall we?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "It's a waste of time," he said while putting his coat on. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

They started down, but were intercepted by Evelyn. John smiled at her warmly. "Afternoon."

"You guys leaving?"

"No, we were going up the stairs backwards."

John looked disapprovingly at Sherlock. "We just got a case."

"Yep, important case. No time to talk," Sherlock replied, pushing past the both of them.

Evelyn looked after Sherlock a moment before looking back at John who looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry. He's an arsehole."

Evelyn laughed. "It's alright. I actually find it refreshing. It's better to not pretend that you're something you're not. So what's the case?"

"Oh, Just suspicious overdose. Most likely nothing more than it appears." John started down the stairs. "Did you need something? You were heading up?"

"Sugar. I ran out, so I was going to see if you guys had any. Mrs. Hudson is out as well."

"It's not likely. But you can have a look. We keep it on the counter." He nodded his goodbye.

"She's been here a month, Sherlock, you think you could be a little nicer?"

Sherlock looked a bit confused. "Have I been mean?"

"Indifferent."

"I am indifferent. She's just another person. Sweet, and caring, but why should that matter to me?"

John let out a short laugh as they climbed into the cab. Sherlock gave the cabby the address before John said, "Just be nicer. She doesn't seem to have a lot of friends."

Sherlock seemed to think on it a moment. "Fine, I'll make small talk the next time I see her."

"Thank you."

* * *

Evelyn watched the cab pull away before she took a look about. She touched nothing, because she was sure Sherlock would notice if something was just a little out of place. She took note that while the flat wasn't exactly tidy, it was by no means unorganized. There was an orderly feel to the mess. It made her smile a bit.

In fact, the whole flat made her smile. She grew up in a structured and clean home. Everything had its place, and it had better find its way back to that place or you were in for a beating. She went down the hall that lead to a washroom and bedroom. The bedroom was vary unlike the living room. She would bet her last dollar that Sherlock spent very little time in here. Perhaps he even spent most nights on the sofa.

Next she went to the kitchen, and since she was actually out of sugar, she looked on the counter, where John told her it would be. She was in luck. She opened the bag to take what she needed but grimaced once she looked in. Was that a toe? She took the bag closer to the light, and sure enough it was a toe. In the sugar.

"Evie?"

Evelyn jumped, nearly dropping the sugar. She put the bag down, looking at Mrs. Hudson, who was clearly trying not to smile. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Oh I'm sorry, Dear. What are you doing in here?"

"John said I could barrow sugar if they had any. They do, but I don't think anyone will be using it."

Mrs. Hudson looked a little grossed out. "Some body part I'd imagine?"

"I would say it's a toe."

Mrs. Hudson nodded. "Yes, well. That's Sherlock for you. It's not going to be the last unusual thing you will find here. I assure you of that. Came on then. We shell go to the store."

Evelyn put the sugar back where she found it before following Mrs. Hudson down the stairs. Sherlock was the most interesting man she'd ever had to get close to. She hated what she was doing, but at least this time the man was interesting. Even John was interesting in his own way.

Evelyn shook her head. No. She couldn't find them interesting. She needed to keep a mental distance. If you get too close, then things will go south. They were nothing but a mission, and she'd better remember that.

.....

**I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated. Thanks :D**


	3. Getting Too Close

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. All credit goes to the writer/creators of the show**

…

Evelyn made her way up the stairs to Sherlock's flat, coffee in hand. She observed that Mrs. Hudson low key took care of Sherlock and John, so she volunteered to help. This gave her an excuse to be in Sherlock's space without drawing any suspicions. As she drew closer to the slightly opened door, she could hear the hum of talking.

"You really can be a dick."

"You say the nicest things, John." Sherlock's tone was light. Clearly, the name-calling didn't upset him in the slightest.

"It wasn't meant to be nice."

"Would you like to share with me why I'm a dick today?"

Evelyn went in, finding the two where she'd suspected they'd be, John was in his chair, Rosie on his lap. Sherlock was across the way, reading a paper.

"Good morning," Evelyn said, as she put the tea tray down on the table.

"Good morning," John replied, going over to her. "How was your night?"

"Fine, thanks. And yours?"

"Ah well. Probably the best sleep you can get with an eight-month-old."

Evelyn smiled at the babe he was holding. "It gets better. I promise you this. Treasure it while you can, because you're going to miss it."

"I doubt that," Sherlock smirked as he folded his paper. "Who would miss a baby screaming at all hours of the night?" He waved his hand in dismissal as he made his way over to them. "I for one will sleep better when the little bugger sleeps through the night." He said this with annoyance, but he was warm when he booped Rosie's nose before rubbing her soft cheek.

"I told you, we can go back to my apartment if she's keeping you up."

"Come off it, John. I don't sleep most nights anyway."

"Well, I assure you. When she's fourteen and off on her first date, you will miss this." Rosie reached for her, so John handed her over. "Hello sweetheart," Evelyn cooed.

Sherlock made a disapproving sound as he poured his coffee.

Evelyn looked over at him a little surprised. "Have I done something to offend you?"

Sherlock looked at her and was about to answer when his eyes flicked to John. Clearly, something about the man's face made Sherlock's soften slightly. "Baby talk can delay her speech. Refrain from doing it…please."

"Is that so?" Evelyn replied. She followed the men back to the living room, sitting on the sofa. She put Rosie on her knees and studied her sweet face. She remembered when Oliver was this little. He was the cutest little boy she'd ever seen. She used to wish he would stay little forever so he didn't have to grow up to be a man. But they all grow, and now she just hopes that between her and Rachel, he will grow up to be a good one.

Rosie would grow to be a good person. She had a community of people who cared about her and saw to her needs. She would always have someone in her corner, being there when she fell. Picking her up when she struggled to do it on her own. The two men in this room were more than she'd ever had.

"So," Evelyn said out of nowhere. "What makes Sherlock a dick today?" She didn't want to think about her past. Not now.

John told her the story as to why Sherlock was a dick, and she had to laugh. Sherlock was so observant, but sometimes, he missed the obvious. Humans were not his strong suit. Or human emotions to be more precise. Well, most humans anyway. Sherlock certainly cared about John's emotions, and she suspected he cared for Rosie too. Mrs. Hudson was probably on that list, but under John and Rosie, but above Molly and Greg. His brother was a tricky one. She was sure he cared for him but wasn't sure where to put him on her mental list of his important people.

"Evelyn?" John said, breaking through her thoughts.

She looked up to see them both studying her. She hadn't heard either of them talking before. "Yeah?"

"I asked if you'd like to go to lunch?" John said after another moment of looking at her with questioning eyes.

"Oh," She looked back at Rosie to give herself a moment. She needed to stay detached, which was proving to be hard, but she was supposed to make herself a part of their lives, and John was clearly the way in. "I would love lunch." She added a quick smile. She glanced at Sherlock for the briefest moment because she could feel his eyes on her. In the quick glimpse, she could see his eyes were curious. That couldn't be good. She didn't need him observing her too closely.

"So will I be watching Rosie then?" Sherlock asked.

"That's not necessary. She can come. I mean, if watching her is a problem." She said this a little too desperately. She felt bad about agreeing to this date when she had no interest in him. Not that way, anyway.

"Rosie is never a problem," Sherlock replied.

"Either way," Evelyn said, standing. "What time?"

"One?" John asked.

"Perfect. See you." She handed the baby back and waved on her way out.

Pull yourself together! Evelyn told herself. She needed to get her shit together. If she was caught? She needed to do this for Oliver.

* * *

Evelyn laughed so hard she could hardly breathe. John was telling her of some of his adventures with Sherlock, and they were so outrageous it was almost hard to believe they were true. She wiped the tear from her eye as she tried to control the laughter. "That's so great!"

"Yeah, it's funny now, but at the time, I was scared out of my mind."

"I bet." She took a sip of her drink. "So. Before Sherlock? What did you do?"

"Well, Is I'm a doctor. I went to the war…Honestly? Life was a bit dull before Sherlock. He brought…something. Made me alive." he chuckled nervously. "And now I sound like a lover."

"No," she said, fiddling with her straw. "You sound like an admirer. Nothing wrong with that."

"Ah, well. After I met Sherlock, life was never the same. Then I met Mary." he choked up a little.

"You loved her very much." It wasn't a question.

"Dear God, yes. And I did wrong by her. She was an amazing woman. Insightful. Put up will my Arsehole best friend." He chuckled. "She was everything."

"What about you?" John asked. "Any tragic past loves?"

"No. I come from the streets. My childhood was rough and much better left in the past. Since I got away I've just worried about surviving. Spent time in America." She paused a moment as she shrugged. "I guess I'm still waiting for my story to begin."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Your childhood I mean."

She shifted in her seat. He was so genuine. He really meant what he said, and she wasn't used to that. Especially in men. "Thank you. For being so kind to me. It's refreshing. It's nice to know that good men still exist."

John looked saddened. "I'm not always a good man."

Evelyn took his hand that rested on the table. "Even good men do bad things. It doesn't make you a bad man. It makes you human."

"Thank you."

Evelyn cleared her throat. "Anyway. How about we talk about things that are not so heavy. Like, your favorite movie?"

* * *

It was a little past four by the time they returned home. She had such a great time she forgot to keep an eye on the time. He even walked her to her door and kissed her on the cheek before she went in. He was so sweet, and she wished she could fall for him.

But she couldn't. She had never had such a hard time staying objective. Not getting involved. Physically and emotionally. Maybe she was just out of practice.

After dropping her purse on the table by her door, she pulled her hair out of the pony she had it in and plopped on the couch. God, she was tired. She wasn't sleeping well due to the fact that spying on John and Sherlock didn't sit well with her.

A knock on her door had her on her feet, and her reaching for the dagger she kept in her boot. It was an instinctual reaction, but she left the dagger were it was and went to her door.

She knew it wasn't Sherlock or John because she could hear them walking around above her. Mrs. Hudson was out to dinner. That only left one other option.

On the other side of her door was a man in a suit. He had greying hair that was slicked back in a way that reminded her of those attractive executive types you'd see in magazines promoting the latest male fashions. His stone grey eyes held no warmth, and he looked at her as if she was something he accidentally picked up off the street. He was holding a large flat box under his arm.

"Can I help you?" She asked. If he was one of Elijah's, she's never met him. Not that was an impossibility.

"I'm here to pick you up for your dinner date." His voice was deep and a bit monotoned. He's requesting you wear this." He handed her the box. "We will be departing in ten minutes."

Evelyn took the box and closed the door without another word. Yes, it was Elijah and no doubt she would be meeting him at some fancy restaurant. She hated it when he dolled her up and showed her off.

She made quick work of putting the dress on, and after a minute of finagling, she was able to position her dagger in a harder in a way that it couldn't be seen. She brushed her hair before looking into the mirror. The dress was knee length with a plunging neckline. The dress itself was black with hundreds of little diamonds that made the light dance.

She grabbed the hand purse Elijah provided and put her phone in it along with some cash. She hesitated a moment, remembering about makeup, but decided to hell with it. She already was playing his stupid game. Damn if she'd make sure she looked her best.

As she headed out, she looked over at the stairs where Sherlock had stopped just two steps from the bottom. He looked at her with an unreadable expression. "Take a picture, it last longer," she said childishly as her annoyance boiled over. She started for the door again, but he stopped her.

"Two dates in one day?"

She turned to look at him, ready to tell him to mind his own business, but his expression caught her off guard. He looked perplexed and a little concerned. "I'm meeting an old friend." She replied instead.

"But you don't want to?" He said it as if he were both sure and unsure of that.

"It's just bad timing." When he said nothing more, she left quickly, cursing the limo that waited for her. She looked up as she got in and saw John watching from the window. A small pain started in her chest. She knew he liked her, and the idea that he thought this was a date made her sad.

As the limo started off she made a deal with herself to set him straight. She couldn't let him think he had a chance with her. In another life, she might go for him. Hell, he was the kind of guy she could fall for in this life. Kind, and caring. Smart and devoted. Maybe a little mundane, but with Sherlock as a best friend she was sure he saw his share of action. And there wasn't anything wrong with mundane. She personally could use a little more normal.

* * *

Sherlock stayed where he was a little longer. Usually, he could read her. Sure, she was a bit more complex than the average human, but readable none the less. But just now, as she hurried out the door, she was a closed book. He couldn't get anything. She was clearly uncomfortable and he was sure she wasn't okay with whoever she was meeting, but that was it. He couldn't read her.

He returned upstairs and sat quietly. She had his attention now. Never had he been able to read someone, and then not able to read them. The Woman was unreadable for him, and Mary was able to throw his reading off some, but this was new territory. What was it? Why was it?

"Sherlock?" John asked, grabbing his attention. "You okay?" he asked when Sherlock finally looked at him.

"She's interesting," Sherlock replied, surprising them both. Outside of The Women, he found no woman interesting. Okay, maybe Mary.

"And why is that? Just a few days ago you called her ordinary."

"She's more complex than I originally thought." That was all he would say on the subject. For now, that's all he knew.

"So, you going to help the police with the Emma Grey case?" John asked as he changed Rosie.

"It wasn't suicide like the first responders assumed. The note wasn't written by her, but by someone who knows her well or is good at copying handwriting. Also, her wrist had marks on them, suggesting she was bound, and the angle of the bruise at her neck is wrong. She was strangled from behind by someone who is smaller than her."

John shook his head. Sherlock could look at a crime scene for five seconds and gather more evidence than the cops. "So tomorrow morning then?"

"Yes, we will be looking into it. Molly coming for Rosie in the morning?"

"First thing." John cradled her, holding her bottle as she drank. Usually, she'd do the holding, but she was sleepy and failed to do so.

* * *

Evelyn was escorted to Elijah's table at a fancy French restaurant with a name she wasn't sure how to pronounce. She sat, thanking the waiter who helped her push in her chair. When asked what she would be drinking, she went with whatever wine Elijah was drinking. It was red, and that's all that mattered to her. She couldn't stand white wines. Though she has had a few that weren't too bad.

"How's work?" Elijah asked once they were alone.

"Fine. They don't seem to be touching on any theft cases. Ready to tell me what your end goal is yet?"

"No." He sipped his wine. "Have you gotten close to your targets? Can you be sure they aren't looking in my direction?"

"Sherlock isn't someone you can easily get close to. John, however, is another story. He's the reason I've gotten close enough to know. So far there have been suicide, murder, missing people and one case of mistaken circumstances. But no B and E and no theft."

"Sherlock's weaknesses?"

"I think John might be his only weakness. I believe he's the only person Sherlock actually loves. Outside of Irene Adler, but I believe her to be dead already." She paused a moment. "You will not hurt john."

"You have a loose tongue!" he barked in response.

Her heart jumped into her throat, but she was unshaken on the outside. "Please, refrain from hurting John."

"If it's possible, he will remain unhurt."

She thanked the waiter as he put her plate in front of her. Steak with petite potatoes and greens. "How's Rachel and Oliver?" She'd been worried about them, and missed them terribly. She used to see them almost daily.

"Both are good. He's a good boy that Oliver."

"Can I see them?" She could see the anger in his eyes, though he kept his composure.

"Have I not given you enough?" They fell quiet as the sound of a piano playing a soft tune filled the air. "Do you still play?"

She shrugged as she finished chewing. "On occasion. I don't usually have a piano at hand." And it sometimes made her sad when she did play. Emmanuel was a friend of Elijah's and offered to teach her piano after hearing her play with his once when they were over on business. It was the only time she felt happy, and that was mostly because twice a week she got to spend the afternoon away from Elijah and the others. Emmanuel was always nice and made her feel special.

As she grew older, he made his affections for her more obvious. She fell for it, and he took advantage of a woman who just wanted to be loved by someone. Truly loved. So she allowed him to use her, though she wasn't aware she was being used. It took time for her to see it, but once she did, she got away. Only she didn't know she was pregnant when she left him, and that's when she fled the life. She wanted more for her child.

"Please. I would really like to see my son." She knew she was pushing it, but it was making her anxious not seeing with her own eyes that he was okay. "Please." She added on for good measure.

"I'll arrange it," he said after a few minutes. "If you'd do something for me in return?"

Her stomach dropped. "Which is?"

"I have an important business party next week. An important guest will be there, and I need him wooed. I need him swayed in my favor."

She had to fight back nausea. Because what he really meant was he wanted her to take him to bed and get him to take Elijah's side of whatever deal he was cooking up. Sex had a tendency to make men bendable. "I get a night with them. Dinner and a sleepover, and you have a deal."

He smiled. "Deal."

She took the hand he offered, hating the way his skin felt against hers. "He's not going to have any idea what hit him. I will, of course, provide you the dress. Put some paint on your face, will you? I want you breathtaking when you enter the ballroom. "Excellent," he said, clearly pleased by their deal. Evelyn, however, was sick to her stomach.

* * *

Sherlock watched her from the window. The limo had dropped her off ten minutes before, but she stood there, looking up at the night sky. He would assume she was looking at the stars, but not many could be seen on their street. Too many lights.

She seemed content to just stay there, looking up at the black expanse of the sky, shifting slightly every time a car drove by. Was she aware she did that? Was she aware that she took in her surroundings every minute? Shifting when spotting something, turning her head ever so slightly as a cat sauntered by, her hand twitched at her thigh as she observed the man passing. She was ready to fight while being seemingly indifferent to the man.

The man nodded in her direction, but she just turned her attention back to the sky. What was she seeing? Was she praying? Looking for guidance? He doubted she was praying. She didn't seem the kind.

He watched her enter the building, her sudden disappearance leaving an odd feeling within him. She was interning to watch now that he knew she was different. Unique in ways he was still unsure of.

Feeling inspired by his piqued curiosity, he picked up his violin and started playing a new tune. It started out bored and uncaring before turning quick and somewhat hectic, the strings playing out in an almost violent manner before shifting into something sweet and longing. His emotions played out in tune.

* * *

She was remembering the stars. From her flat in Connecticut, she could stand outside and see a lot of stars. The first time she'd seen so many she had been in awe. She didn't know what she was missing due to living in the city.

But she knew now what she was missing, and she missed the way the spotted the sky. She shifted slightly, spotting the cat just as it began to cross the road. The baby hairs in her neck stood up, alerting her she wasn't alone. She saw his shadow first, be being cast due to the outside light of 221 B. The man that followed nodded his head, oblivious to the fact that she was ready to grab her dagger at any moment. Lucky for him, he continued by, leaving her be.

She looked to the sky once more, seeing just a few stars before heading inside. Had anyone looked out their window they would have found her curious standing there, looking up at the sky as though there was something to actually see.

She looked up the stairs as she passed, wondering briefly if either of the men were asleep. The idea of going up with a bottle of the sweet wine she picked up a few days ago appealed to her, but it was a late hour and she couldn't bring herself to impose just because she wanted company.

She just closed her front door when the sound of a violin drifted into her flat. She was surprised it wasn't louder and figured some kind of soundproofing might have something to do with it. Hoping to hear it better, she went to the love seat in front of her window, sitting in it as she opened the window slightly. The music came louder and she smiled. The Violin was a beautiful instrument.

Leaving the window open, she changed into an oversized long sleeve shirt and made her way back to the bench seat with a book. She sat, adjusting the lamp on the table next to her to better see the book.

But she never opened it. She had made herself comfortable and found that she was too tired to read. Instead, she listened to Sherlock play, wondering if this melody was his own, or by someone else. Either way, she liked the shifts in the tone. It was as if the shifts in music told a story. The fast and intense parts were that of confusion and uncertainty. A dance of willpower perhaps between two people before melding together. Now, as the music turned soft and almost a little sad, she felt sad for the people who had fought. Perhaps they were lovers, and one was now lost.

The soft melody continued, lulling her to sleep. She shifted some, moving so she was a bit more comfortable, but after that, she fell into the first deep sleep she's had since Oliver was taken.

…..

**I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated. Thanks :D**


	4. Abducted

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. All credit goes to the writer/creators of the show**   
  
**……………………….**

Sherlock watched as the men moved the piano into Evelyn's flat. He didn't know she played. He sighed and went back upstairs. He was bored out of his mind! John went back to work, and that meant his days were spent alone. If he had a case this wouldn’t be a problem, but crime seemed to be taking a break, and most available cases were easily solved. Thought, he did feel like the last few seemed to be missing something.

He sat with a sigh, and just for a moment, he fantasized using his drug of choice.

"What's this?" Evelyn's voice came from downstairs.

With nothing better to do, he poked his head out for a better listen.

"I didn't order a piano," Her voice continued as she looked over a paper.

She wore running gear, most likely just getting back in from her run, and was clearly surprised by this delivery.

"From an old friend," the man said, taking the now signed paper from her. She looked annoyed and resigned.

Who was this old friend who seemed to bring her a great deal of annoyance?

Evelyn looked up at him, and she smiled as she waved. He didn't return the gesture, which didn’t seem to faze her in the least. She simply went on her way once she was sure he wasn't going to do or say anything. Interesting. Most people insisted he respond in some way, but she simply excepted what was.

With the commotion now over, Sherlock went back to his apartment, bored. He had to find a case. For the love of God there had to be one.

"Excuse me?" A woman said from the door. Her trembling voice gave away her fear before he even looked at her.

"Yes?" Sherlock said, without even getting up from the couch, he did look at her though. She was scared, obviously. She likes romantic novels, has a cat and takes care of herself. She's not as put together as usual. Confused.

"I need help. I was abducted." the woman said, as she fidgeted with her hands.

"By aliens?" Sherlock scoffed. "Sorry, but that’s not the kind of case I take on."

"Um, no. At least I don't believe so."

Sherlock looked at her again. "Well, you seem to be perfectly well now. What would you have me do?"

"I don't recall being abducted at all. I want to bed the night before last, woke the next morning, everything seemingly normal until I walked into work where they inform me that I've been gone for three weeks."

Sherlock sat up now, surveying the woman again. No signs of drug use, over the counter or otherwise. She wasn't insane, no, she was healthy. He'd wager as sane as they came. Then how? How could she be missing for three weeks and not even know it?

"I'll take your case," he said, getting to his feet. After getting her name and Address, He hurried her out of his flat.

Finally an interesting case, and now he'd have to wait for John to return home. Or he could do this one without John, but that was hardly as fun. Unless…

* * *

It was beautiful, Evelyn thought to herself. Truly a beautiful piano. She was actually tempted to play it, but that would only give Elijah satisfaction. Assuming he ever became aware of the fact that she did play. She sighed, turning from the unwanted gift.

The knock on the door was welcome. Anything to get her mind off the piano. "Sherlock?" she said, opening the door to him. He peeked in, spotting the piano. "Not happy with your gift?" he asked, though it wasn't a question.

Evelyn pulled herself together before he could read anything else. "The gift itself is gorgeous. The motive for said gift, however, is in question," she replied carefully. He'd already noted her unease about it. No need to set off suspicions by trying to lie about it now. "What can I do for you?"

"I have a case, and John is working," Sherlock replied, rolling his eyes when he said the word, working. "Are you busy?"

"No," Evelyn replied.

"Great! Get your bag, we have a case!" Sherlock said, going for the door as he put on his scarf.

Taken a little by surprise, she hesitated to follow. However, the opportunity was too tempting to pass up. She'd always wondered what it would be like to go on a case with him. "Alright then," she said, as she grabbed her bag and went to him. "What's the case?"

After hailing a cab, and getting comfortable, Sherlock shared the details with her. She chewed her cheek a moment as she mulled it around in her head. "Drugs?"

"Not likely."

"Insanity? Perhaps multiple personalities? Some kind of psychotic break?"

"I wager she's completely sane."

"Alien?" Evelyn said, with a straight face. That is until he looked at her with exasperated eyes, prompting her to burst out in laughter. "Joking," she said, shaking her head.

"Were you?" he asked, a little more serious than the situation called for. He eyed her, clearly trying to read her.

"While I can't rule out the possible existence of aliens, I highly doubt they're wasting their time and resources abducting anything so mundane as humans." She looked out the window, reminding herself to relax her posture.

* * *

Not that she was an expert, but there didn’t seem to be any sign of forced entry, so she said as much to Sherlock who asked her what her thoughts were. They were at Elizabeth Forbs flat, having a look around. The woman herself watching them as they did so.

"You said you woke in bed? Were you wearing the same clothes you put on before going to sleep?" Evelyn asked.

"I can’t be sure. I believe so." Elizabeth said hesitantly.

The woman lived three flats up. It was unlikely anyone dragged her out without being spotted. Sherlock was right, she seemed straight as an arrow. No signs of drug use, she knew what drug users looked like, even those who tried to hide it. She seemed sane, though she couldn’t be as sure about that as Sherlock.

"Why don't we have a cuppa?" Evelyn said as the woman began shaking. "We can chat some as Sherlock looks about."

Elizabeth agreed, and soon they were in a cozy sitting room, nestled into comfy chairs that screamed expensive.

"I'm not crazy," Beth said as she sipped. "swear I haven't the faintest idea of how this could happen."

"Do you have family?" Evelyn asked just as Sherlock walked in.

"Not here. Most of my family moved to Australia. Father got a good business deal there. I couldn’t bring myself to move from London. This is my hope."

"Close friends? A lover? Anyone who might have reported your absence?"

"I'm married to my work I'm afraid. My closest friend is my assistant, Gabriel. He informed me he'd checked my flat, but I wasn't here. Oh," she said, sitting back. "I just don't understand."

"Evelyn, we are finished here," Sherlock said, wasting no time to get out the door.

Evelyn on the other hand, said proper goodbyes, assuring Beth that they would get to the bottom of this.

"Thoughts, Evelyn?" Sherlock said as he hurried down the pavement.

"I don’t think she ever left the house. It's unlikely that she could have been carried out. Certainly not without being seen. She lives on a busy street. It doesn’t add up, but I'm confident she's telling the truth. At least what she knows of it, anyway. The milk in the fridge bothers me."

"How so?"

She informed me that she's been too afraid to leave the house. She had no family here, nor close friends with the exaptation of her assistant, and yet, her milk isn't expired."

"You noted that too?"

"I've had enough experience with rotten milk be always be are of when it's supposed to spoil." Actually, she wouldn’t drink milk that's been open in her fridge longer than three days. It was a silly thing of course, but it was what it was.

"I agree with you," sherlock said after a few minutes of silents. "She was in her flat the whole time."

"And yet her assistant said he'd checked on her, and she wasn't there."

"precisely. So, what then, does the assistant have to gain by lying about this?"

Evelyn nodded, seeing where he was going with it. "The assistant is involved. What what would be the purpose of that lie? And how has she lost three weeks?"

"I think I can answer that last question. As for the latter, we should speak to the assistant. I'm sure he'll be most helpful."

* * *

"I was very distraught at her absents," Jerry the assistant said a bit too dramatically.

"And yet you never phoned the police?" Sherlock said, clearly not buying the act.

Evelyn sat, trying to piece it all together the way Sherlock clearly had. She could tell easily enough that Jerry seemed to have something to do with it. She suspected that Beth hadn't actually been missing, but she couldn’t get at how or why. How was Beth missing three weeks, and why would Jerry do it? To what end?

"I..I did," Jerry said as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

"No, you told your colleagues that you did, but you knew all along that your boss was alive."

"I haven't a clue what you're getting at sir," Jerry said, stammering.

"How much did you make by closing that deal on your own? Hm?"

"I..what..i…I deserved that money!" Jerry yelled. "We spent months trying to come to agreeable terms that would make us both a pretty penny, but the bitch changed her mind last minute! Going off saying that she just didn't feel right about it. Something about the children it could affect. I was enraged! After all that time. After painstakingly going over and over the details of the contract. Poppycock!

"So you what? Drug your boss until the deal could be made?" Evelyn asked, sickened.

"That's exactly what he did," Sherlock replied. "He even stayed in her home while she was too drugged up to know. Anything she remembered would seem like a dream."

"What did you give her?" Evelyn asked. She didn’t seem to be going through withdrawal.

"Haven't a clue. Some street drug that I was assured would keep the bitch asleep."

"You could have killed her!" Evelyn said, shocked.

"I deserved that money," Jerry snapped back. Besides, I did as they said. Lowered the doses day by day to lessen withdraw."  
………………………………………

Evelyn shook her head as she followed Sherlock upstairs to his apartment. "I still can’t believe that guy." She also thought he would get along splendidly with Elijah.

"Do this long enough and nothing will surprise you," Sherlock replied, plopping down. "That didn’t take long to solve, did it?"

Evelyn watched as he fidgeted. "You can’t stand being without a case, can you?"

His eyes shifted to her. "I like to stay occupied. Boredom is tedious."

Evelyn sat in John's chair. "How did you know? That Jerry drugged her?"

"Nothing about her told me she used drugs. In fact, I would bet she stayed far away from anything remotely questionable. Yet she had a tick. Her cheek kept twitching. Something that can be happing during withdraws. She might not realize it, but she's experiencing withdrawal. The hospital will check her out."

"Hmm."

"You seem relatively calm about this." In fact, he'd expected more of a response. This didn’t seem to phase her. Upset her, sure. But she seemed resigned to it. "Hard childhood?"

Evelyn shrugged, pushing all kinds of memories from rising to the surface. "Not really. Just aware that there are real evils in this world."

Sherlock observed her looking for signs that she was lying. She was calm. Her eyes said she spoke the truth, but the hand seemed restless on her knee suggested she was lying. Interesting. Perhaps denial about a hard past. Something she'd rather forget.

She looked over at him as he sighed, laughing some. "Have you ever considered getting a hobby? You know, doing crossword puzzles? Getting lost a book?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Crossword puzzles are far too easy, and reading does my mind little good."

"You know, everything you do doesn't have to engage your mind. You can do them just because they are something to do."

It was Sherlock's turn to laugh. "SO you suggest crossword puzzles?" He stood, going over to the table. John had one of those books around here somewhere. He spotted it and gave that and a pen to her. "Let's do it then." He said, sitting. He really wasn't into them, but at least he would have something to occupy him until John came home, and her company wasn't all that bad.

* * *

John shifted Rosie on his hip as he got in the door. He took a moment to give Mrs. Hudson her mail and knocked to give Evelyn hers, but there was no reply. As he started up the stairs, her voice drifted down.

"Bull shit! You mean to tell me you have no idea the name of Harry Potter's Owl? I've never read or saw the series and even I know the name."

"I have no need to store knowledge from a children's book, thank you very much," Sherlock replied.

John walked into the flat to see Evelyn sitting on the couch, feet under her, with Sherlock's legs over her lap. "What's this?" John asked, honestly shocked. "Are you two doing a crossword puzzle?"

"We are trying to but the world smartest detective is shit when it comes to pop culture." Even replied with a laugh.

"I have tried to explain to her such nonsense isn't usually needed, therefore I cast it out," Sherlock put in as he stood. "Glad to have you home, John. Surely you can dig up a case?"

John looked over at Evelyn who shrugged. "I was only keeping him from going mad while he waited for your return." She stood, stretching, and John couldn't help but stare as her shirt rose up a bit, and noticed a large scar.

"Bloody hell, what happened to you?" he asked. That looked like a stab wound. When his eyes reached his face he'd wished he hadn't spoken. She was red as a tomato and pulled her shirt down. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. Just not a tale I like to tell." She shifted, to her other foot, clearly composing herself. "Now, let me get my hands on the little miss," She said, holding her hands out.

He gave her Rosie, who seemed to equally adore Evelyn. "Oh, and this is yours as well," he said, handing her the envelope.

Evelyn took it and opened it. She looked pleased with whatever it said.

"Good news?" Sherlock said as he sat with his tea.

"Excellent news," Evelyn replied. She snuggled Rosie closer to her for a moment before handing her off. "I've got to run, but I'll see you two later."

John watched her go before turning his attention back to Sherlock. "Getting a bit cozy there are we?"

Sherlock looked at him, seemingly dazed. "What? We solved a crime together and solved a few crosswords."

"Sherlock for you that's strange."

"Oh come off it, John. Eve happens not to be completely dull. SO what?"

"So what? I have never seen you so cozy with anything before."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You're overreacting."

"Eve?" John said, catching that Sherlock didn't use her full name.

"Eve suits her more than Evelyn," Sherlock shrugged it off. Why did john seem so surprised by any of this?

John eyed him. No. He didn’t think he was overreaching. Something settled over him. He couldn’t say for sure what it was. However, he was sure he liked this change. Could it be that Sherlock wasn't so indifferent to love as he liked to make people believe?  
………………………….

  
**I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated. Thanks :D**


	5. Apology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is a bit graphic and may be difficult for some readers.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. All credit goes to the writer/creators of the show**

…

"No," Evelyn said as she stood. Elijah had just changed the terms of her being allowed to spend the night with Racheal and Oliver. "This is not part of the deal!"

"You want something extra? Well. Tit for tat. An eye for an eye."

Evelyn looked down at her assignment, shaking her head. "What happened to just prostituting me?"

"I need you to do this instead." Elijah shrugged.

"Just stealing? I get in, get the item, and get out? Nothing more?"

"That's all I require. It's a tiara. Worn by some royal or another."

Evelyn laughed. "You want it, and yet know not it's importance?"

"I've been hired to acquire the item. Seeing how it's not important to me, I don't need to know the minor details. Evan will accompany you."

"You've got to be joking?" Evelyn said shaking her head. "That man would kill me given the chance."

"Evan wouldn't ever do anything of the sort. He knows I'd be devastated to lose my daughter."

"I can do it alone. I don't need that big oaf slowing me down." She couldn't trust Evan. If anything were to happen she was certain the idiot would only make things worse.

"That's not your call. It's mine. You go in, get the item and give it to me."

Evelyn closed her eyes as she leaned on the back of the chair some. "I go in, Get the tiara, nothing more?"

"Haven't we already coved that?"

"With you, double-checking the points is necessary."

"I suppose that's a fair observation. Well?"

"What choice do I have?" Evelyn shook her head ever so slightly. "Fine, I'll do it."

"I knew I could count on you, Ivy."

* * *

It was ghastly. The woman on the bed was shot three times. The face, chest, and crotch. She was arranged so her legs were spread wide for the world to see.

John was busy trying not to lose his lunch while Sherlock took in everything. The woman was in her early twenties. Unmarried. She dyed her hair red, though it's naturally blond. She was dolled up. Whoever did this, she knew. Or at least planned to get to know. There was no sign of forced entry. No struggle. There's no way to know if there was sexual intercourse, forced or not, but he would wager there was. She was a prostitute.

"Jesus," John said as he tried to look again, but turned green. He'd seen bad before, but somehow this…was just…there were now words.

"What are you looking for?" Lestrade asked.

"This woman is a prostitute. Given the extravagant flat in a pricy area, I say one who caters to a higher class. She was working. That's why there's no sign of struggle. Not sight of breaking and entering. She has a schedule, but with no names, only nicknames."

"Our men haven't found anything."

Sherlock looked about. "Then the murderer has to have taken it, or she doesn't keep it here. Which would be smart."

"What makes you think she's a call girl? And what are you looking for?John asked.

"I'm looking for her personal journal. Something she would likely keep information about her clients in." Sherlock paused, looking at John.

"She has an array of sexy costumes in her closet, along with all kinds of toys. She knows her attacker, yet this wasn't intimate. This was simply sex. Sure could have been casual encounter but most people do dinner first. She never dressed to leave the flat. I would say her last sexual before the one who killed her was about twelve hours ago. There are two wet towels in her bath and a condom in the bin. Her schedule confirms my suspicions." Sherlock held it up. "Noon with Littleprick, at least he's pleasant company otherwise. Her last entry Midnight with New client. A bit late but hey they're hot."

"Bloody hell," Lestrade said, taking the schedule from Sherlock. "Why kill her?"

"Too soon to tell, but I have my theories." With that, Sherlock left, leaving john to follow behind.

"That was horrible."

"Yes, sexually-based offenses usually are."

"So, why do you think he killed her? Or she." John tacked on realizing a woman could be to blame.

"This was a man, I can assure you. A woman wouldn't do that. At least not statistically speaking. Theory one? A crime of passion. He wants her, she is only in it for the money. This is personal. He shot her in the crotch. Perhaps he despises the female sex. He shot her in the face, takes away her identity. Shoots her in the heart. Well, this could be a few things. I'll take your heart as you took mine. Or perhaps he simply wanted to imply that she was heartless. Or maybe it's the breast that was the target reinforcing that he despises woman. The reason why is much in question though.

John could only shake his head as images from the crime scene haunted him. That was an image he wouldn't likely forget anytime soon.

"Where are we going?" John asked as he noted that Sherlock wasn't hailing for a cab.

"I know a deli up the road."

John was shocked. "You're hungry? After what we've just seen?"

"Hunger is a body's way of saying one needs food, John. Yes, regardless of what we've just seen, I am hungry."

* * *

Sherlock stood in front of the window, trying to unravel the murder when he saw her get out of the cab. It was pouring, though she didn't come straight in. A man got out behind her, taking her arm. She jerked away, pulling her arm free. His touch was not welcome. They fought like siblings. No, yes. They weren't siblings, but perhaps raised by the same people? She's displeased. Greatly so.

"Sherlock?" John said, going over to him. "You were saying…" he paused when he saw what Sherlock saw. "Evelyn looks upset. She'll catch a cold in this rain." He straightened when the man she was fighting with slapped her. "Nope," John said, making his way to the door.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Sherlock advised.

"Well, you aren't me," John called back.

John reached the door just as she was coming in. She looked pissed, tried, and she trembled. "Evelyn, you okay?"

"Leave me be," she replied as she went for her keys.

She shook as she tried to get them out of her purse. Which confused john some. It wasn't cold enough to be this cold. Even when wet. "Who was that man? Why'd he hit you?"

Evelyn sniffed as she finally pulled out her keys. Tears sprung to her eyes. "None of your business."

"Evelyn, I can help you…"

"Do yourself a favor," Evelyn said as she unlocked her door. "Stay away from me. I'm toxic. All I will do is bring death to you. Leave me alone." She went in, slamming the door in his face.

Sherlock was on the stairs when John started up, "Heard all that?"

"Yes," Sherlock replied. "I told you to leave it alone."

"You might be a cold-hearted bastard who could leave a woman alone after witnessing that, but I can't. I had to try."

"She didn't mean it, john. She doesn't want you to leave her alone." In fact, he thought to himself. The tone she used suggested that she was screaming for help.

"You think I should," John asked, pointing down the stairs to indicate he meant to go back down.

"No. I'd leave her be tonight. I meant she doesn't want you to give up on her."

Sherlock went into the flat then. Seems like Evelyn might have taken a liking to John, and for some odd reason that didn't sit well. Not at all. Maybe something about her made him worried about John. He would have to pay attention to that in the future.

* * *

Evelyn leaned against her door, using it to support her. She was so angry and full of guilt she wasn't sure how to process it. Then john had to come and be the kind soul he always was, and it undid her. His kindness toward her always seemed to throw her.

She slid down the door to the floor as the tears of frustration came. Nothing about tonight had gone to plan. Well at least She got the stupid crown for her father, but at what price? Why was anyone home? She was told the owners were supposed to be at some fancy party, but those people were dressed for bed.

She covered her eyes with the palms of her hands as she remembered their shocked expressions. Expressions she imagined matched her own. Before she could say anything. Before she could even completely process what had happened, Evan shot them. Both. Pop. Pop. Gone.

She had gasped at the suddenness of it. At the fact he'd done it at all. Not that she should be. Not really. To add to the tragedy, the couple had kids. She found two rooms that clearly housed children. Luckily neither of them seemed to be home. Unluckily, their lives would be forever changed.

"It was always part of the plan," Evan told her as they fought outside her door. "Father didn't tell you?"

"That mother fucking arsehole!" she had yelled back, earning her a slap for insulting Elijah, who apparently walked on water according to his son.

Evelyn stood, needing a shower, but the piano caught her attention. She went to it, opening the lid. It had been so long since she played, she's wondered if she would even remember how, but as she played, it was as though she never stopped. She played a melody that would tell anyone who listened to it a story of betrayal and sorrow.

She then the gifted of the piano, but she was glad to have it in this moment of mourning.

….

Sherlock could hear the piano and smiled. She was quite good. As the tone of the melody went from angry to sad, he figured she played out her feeling. Something about tonight made her angry, and now she grieved. The song was beautiful, and it inspired him.

He went to his violin, taking a moment to ready himself. He picked up on the notes she played and started to match them. For a minute, he copied her notes, then shifted. She played notes of anger, he replied with notes of apology. He wasn't sure she could hear him play, but he enjoyed this none the less. It was like a conversation in music.

…..

Evelyn could hear him play. He did a wonderful job playing off her notes, then shifting to a tune that seemed to respond to hers. When her music went angry, his was almost apologetic. When the music went sad, it was as if his answering melody was comforting her. Funny. He said more to her in song, than he'd ever said in words.

* * *

She felt terrible. The hurt in John's eyes when she told him to stay away from her would bother her until she apologized, and what better way to do that than with stew? Okay, so the reasons behind the stew were kinda selfish. She wanted stew herself, so she already had all the ingredients on hand. Still, she made a damn good stew and they always say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Hopefully the same could be said about forgiveness.

As she cooked, she thought about the night before, new anger settling in. She had to get this job right. She would be pardoned, and she would never have to look Elijah in the face again. She would be free.

Would she though? Would Elijah ever let her go? She shook her head some. No. She'd been thinking about this a lot too. When this was all over, she was going to send Rachel and Oliver back to Connecticut, but they would be going without her.

Oliver was safe enough. Elijah had no use for a blind child. That she was sure of. But as long as she stayed around, he would use Oliver to hurt her. So she would go somewhere else. She wasn't sure where exactly. Italy had its charms. Perhaps travel around South America. She's always been interested in the ruins of the Mayans and there were all kinds of things to explore. Hell, maybe she'd travel around the world, finding work wherever she settled.

She would visit them of course. FaceTime was always an option. Rachel wasn't going to like this, but she had to do what she felt would be best. Otherwise, if something were to happen, she would be sick with guilt.

It was a little after five when the boys returned home. She had already eaten her bowl of the stew and had been waiting for them to get home so she could bring it to them. After about ten minutes, after they returned she carefully brought the pot up to their flat.

Since they never close their doors, she just stood in the door way, clearing her throat. She smiled when they looked her away. "Hey," she said awkwardly. "I brought you guys some stew."

"You can put it there," Sherlock said, nodding towards the counter.

After putting it down, she turned to John. "I'm sorry. For last night. I treated you horribly, and I wish I could take it back."

John's eyes flickered to the stew, then back to her. "So, you made me apology stew?" Never in his life had anyone offered stew as an apology. It was….endearing.

"Yes?" Evelyn replied, now feeling a little unsure. It was strange, she guessed now that she thought about it. She felt her cheeks flush some when John burst into laughter.

"That's….You're forgiven," John replied, still laughing. "I'm going to go put Rosie down, then I'll have some of that stew."

Evelyn turned to Sherlock who approached her, a smile at his lips. "You think this is funny too?"

"Most people bring flowers, chocolate, or beg on their knees." He pulled a bowl out. "This is probably the strangest apology gift I've heard of."

Evelyn sat on the counter next to the stew. "I thought it nice," she replied, defending her actions.

Sherlock spooned the stew into his bowl, then took a small bite.

"Well?" Evelyn asked because he made no reaction what-so-ever.

"Good. Not a bad gift after all."

"Thanks." She replied. "If anything it got a good laugh out of John."

"True. But you should try your best to not upset him in the first place."

Evelyn couldn't help the smile. "Really? And if I do?" she asked, leaning toward him some.

Sherlock leaned toward her as well, getting closer than he normally would. "John is the most important person in my life. Don't think I will sit back and do nothing while you hurt him."

They locked eyes, neither of them breaking the contact. "I don't want to hurt him. He's a good person your John Watson."

"Your music is beautiful. Did you compose it yourself?" Sherlock asked, changing the subject, but not breaking the eye contact.

"Your Violin made it even more beautiful, and no. It's a piece I fell in love with by Jorge Mendez. I can only play the piano part of the song, and while what you played to it was different than the original, it fits perfectly." She had loved the way he started playing with her. "Your skills are far better then mine, I'm afraid."

"I would still like to do it again. Put your skills to the test."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Only if you accept," Sherlock replied with a devilish kind of smile.

"How can I not?"

"What are you two doing?" John asked as he walked in on them. Sherlock's hand was on her knee, and she looked amused by whatever Sherlock was saying to her. "Are you being mean, Sherlock?"

"Nope," he said, moving away from her as if nothing had taken place between them. "Stew is good." He added as he went to his chair and sat down.

"Was he being an arsehole?"

Evelyn laughed some. "Not at all," she replied. "He's just looking out for the person he cares for most. I'm truly sorry john."

John laughed now. "You think that Sherlock hasn't done worse to me? He let me believe he was dead once."

Yes, she thought. She remembered reading something about that. "That seems a horrible thing to do. I'm sorry you went through it." John was still hurt by that. She could see it in his eyes.

John looked over his shoulder at Sherlock who was no doubt not listening to them. "Yeah well," he said, taking the first bite of the stew. "This is fantastic."

Evelyn smiled "thanks. A friend taught me how to cook it."

* * *

John sat in his chair, lost now in his own thoughts. Evelyn left, giving him time to think. He really liked her. In fact, he could see himself falling for her. She was kind and always helpful. They always laughed together and she was just so easy going, most of the time anyway. Not to mention she's fantastic with Rosie.

However, Sherlock seemed to be getting close to her too. He looked at her in a way he'd never seen before. Well, no. He guessed Irene Adler received a similar look, and John knows Sherlock loved her.

Well wasn't that just great? Here he was, falling for the same woman his best friend might be falling for, and he knew damn well he would be the one to back down.

Not because he felt like he'd lose, but because Evelyn seemed to like Sherlock too. Sherlock is overly opinionated and often offends women. Hell, he offends everyone. However, the other day when Sherlock told her that the shade of lipstick she was wearing didn't suit her at all. John had braced himself for anger. But she just laughed. She laughed so hard she cried in fact. After she stopped, she told him a friend bought it for her and she didn't think it matched her either.

John and Sherlock were equally shocked at her reaction. It was nice to see someone not take Sherlock's comments in a bad way. Yes, sherlock says things that most people don't say out loud, and it makes him come off as a bad person, but he really wasn't. The man just had no filter and most of the time he says things out of simple fact. Not to hurt the person he said it too.

So what to do was the big question here. Sherlock certainly wouldn't go out of his way to explore his feelings for Evelyn, and he wasn't really sure if Evelyn would either. He didn't want to overstep, but he didn't want to sit back and watch Sherlock lose this opportunity either. Hmmm.

For now, he would just observe. Before really pushing them together, he needed to be sure why they actually were liking each other. And he had to do it in a way that didn't get Sherlock suspicious. Otherwise, the whole thing would go up in smoke because, "I don't fall in love, John. It's a weakness." John rolled his eyes as Sherlock's voice filled his head. Yes, one might not want to fall in love, but sometimes, falling in love isn't a choice.

…

**I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated. Thanks :D**


	6. Fear

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. All credit goes to the writer/creators of the show**

**…..**

"I've been so worried!" Rachel said as they embraced. She was crying as she pulled away. "Oliver is down for a nape, but I can wake him…"

"No, that's okay. It gives us time to catch up," Evelyn said, leading Rachel to the couch where they both sat. "You okay? Oliver? They haven't hurt you or anything?"

"No. They creep me out sometimes, and it's weird to have someone standing outside my door, but we've been okay. Oliver's been asking about you and asking about when we get to go home."

Evelyn closed her eyes. "I'm trying to get you guys out of this as fast as I can."

"What about you, Ev? You doing okay?"

Evelyn allowed the tears to fall. She hated that she needed to cry, but she was only human, right? "I'm…" She shook her head. "It's been tough, but I'll be okay." She couldn't say too much. She didn't want to say anything that could get Rachel into trouble.

"Come here," Rachel said, pulling her into her arms. "Soon enough everything will go back to normal."

Would it? Evelyn didn't think so, but she didn't have the heart to say that to Rachel. "Yeah, you and Oliver will be back home before we know it."

"Evelyn? Is that you?" Oliver asked as he entered the room.

"Yeah, Sweetie it's me!" Evelyn replied. Oliver didn't move around as confidently here as he did back home, but he got to her quickly and with little issue. They embraced and he climbed into her lap.

"I've missed you!" he cried."

Evelyn's heart broke and sang with happiness at the same time. "I've missed you too, sweetie."

"You hungry? I can make lunch," Rachel said, wiping away tears of her own.

"Why don't we all cook together? Like we used to?" Evelyn suggested.

"Oh, can we?" Oliver asked, looking in his mom's direction.

Rachel laughed. "Yes, of course, we can."

…

"It sounds like you like him," Rachel whispered. They were snuggled on the couch together, watching tv. They whispered so that if anyone was listening it wasn't likely they'd hear much over the tv.

Evelyn couldn't stop herself from blushing. "He's interesting. Not overly warm, but he's honest and sincere. He can be a little harsh, and cold, but once you get past that hard shell, a good soul lies beneath.

"You can see the beauty in that kind of person. Someone who says what they think. Who's honest even when it hurts." Rachel smiled at Evelyn.

"It's true. I don't like being played with. Being lied too." Evelyn shook her head. "But none of that matters. Sherlock can't mean anything to me. If it gets personal, then I won't be able to do my job. Getting you and Oliver back home safely is all that matters."

It's already is personal, Rachel thought to herself. "Just promise me you will be careful. I would be very upset if anything happened to you."

"Don't worry. I don't plan on letting anything happen to any of us. If I play my cards right, we will all get out of this alive."

* * *

Sherlock looked over another crime scene that matched the one from the week before. Three gunshots, face, chest, crotch. Spread on the bed for the world to see. It looked to be the same kind of gun, though he couldn't know for sure until forensics got back to them. The difference between the two? This one had a count down. The murderer used her blood to write two of six on the wall.

Different types of woman though. The first victim, Veronica Rose was white with blue eyes and blonde hair dyed red. This woman was dark brown with black hair and deep brown eyes. She was attractive as the was the first victim.

"Iris Banners," Lestrade said from behind him. "Thirty-three. You think it's the same guy?"

"Of course it is. This is the exact same MO." And just like the first one, he left nothing behind. Not a hair, nor a stray fingerprint. He cleaned up after himself well. Sherlock took his time to look around. He took in everything. You never know what could be a clue, a link in the future.

"You have any ideas?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock hardly ever struggled to salve a case. Usually getting leads before anyone else.

"Not yet," Sherlock said, walking away. Iris' room was clean and organized. She didn't make as much money as Veronica, but she still lived well, and he was confident she was a prostitute too. She had some toys, but her variety in sex outfits was nothing compared to what Veronica had.

"Was there any kind of date book?" Sherlock asked.

"No," Lestrade replied. "Looks like might have a serial killer on our hands."

Sherlock didn't disagree. There was a week between this murder and the last. Was that his timeline? What do the two victims have in common? He would have to look into that. Outside of the profession, he needed to know if there was a link. How was the suspect picking his victims? Was it random?

"I'll be going back to the first crime scene. Look it over again," Sherlock informed Lestrade.

He had John meet him there now that John was out of work. John found Sherlock looking under Veronica's bed when he arrived.

"What is it you're looking for?"

"Anything," Sherlock replied, distracted.

John followed him about. He knew Sherlock would clue him in when he was ready.

"We found another victim. She was shot in the same way. Her body arranged the same way. Only this time he gave us a victim count. I need to figure out if he's picking at random, or if there's something that they all have in common. Outside of being a prostitute of course. "

"Should there be a warning issued to them? They need to know to be careful. Not to take on any new clients."

"Yes," Sherlock said absentmindedly as he took in her book collection. There was nothing special. Nothing that stood out.

Her living area was tidy like Iris', but that hardly made them connected. Their style in décor was different. Veronica was more modern. Her living-room set featured a white modern couch with matching chairs. The coffee table and side tables were made to look like they were made from birch trees, but he was sure the wood was fake. The pillows that adorned the couch and chairs were different shades of grey. The trio of pictures on the wall above the stone fireplace were swirls of white and black. The piano in the corner looked used, but still in top shape. This theme continued into the dining/ kitchen area. The bedroom was done in deep burgundy and white. The bathroom continued that color theme.

Iris' living spaces were colorful. There was a bohemian feel to the décor. The sofa was made of wood with a blue cushion. An orange crocheted blanket was draped over it. The pillows were flower printed and the loveseat matched. The coffee table was dark wood with painted gold leaves. Her walls were adorned with all kinds of art pieces. No piano. Her dining set was mismatched. The bohemian feel continued in the bedroom.

So they had drastically different tastes. That wasn't how they were connected. Sherlock shook his head in frustration. Nothing. He had nothing. He would have to look into their histories.

"Did the new victim have a book?" John asked.

"No. Otherwise, I would look in them to see if they have matching names. Not that it would help. Veronica nick-named her clients."

Two of six. That means four more women will be dead if we can't find him."

"And that's if he can stop. He's tasted blood. He has an end game, but once he gets there, he might not be able to stop the urge to kill." Sherlock replied. "Let's go. I won't find anything new here."

* * *

She looked…refreshed, Sherlock mused as Evelyn and John traded pleasantries Monday morning. She showed up like she often did, offering to make breakfast. John, of course, jumped on the opportunity to have her here. Sherlock had to admit he welcomed her too.

"Do you guys have eggs? Or do I…" she was saying as she opened the fridge and gasped, cutter herself off.

"For god's sake, Sherlock," John said, peering in. "Why is there a bloody…you know what, never mind."

Evelyn laughed, though she was a bit thrown. "It's okay, I have some. I'll be right back."

John went up to his room when Rosie fussed and arrived back just as Evelyn returned.

"Good morning little Rosebud!" Evelyn said, smiling.

Rosie reaches for her, so Evelyn exchanged eggs for Rosie. "Goodness, I think you've grown over the weekend."

Rosie babbled a response.

"You don't say?" Evelyn replied as if she understood her.

Rosie babbled more with enthusiasm, bouncing some as she did so.

"I know! But what can you do?" Evelyn replied, shaking her head.

Sherlock smiled. She was great with Rosie. He'd often wondered how it would affect Rosie to grow up without a mother of any kind, but Eve would…he stopped there. What was he thinking? No one said Eve was going to stick around. In fact, he was sure she didn't plan on it at all.

Yet, for some reason, he hoped she did. She brought something to their little family. John and Rosie needed her.

He stood suddenly, startling the others.

"You okay?" Evelyn asked, confused.

"Peachy," Sherlock replied a bit harshly.

He left then, not really having a destination in mind. He felt uneasy. Unsure of what to do. He was so unlike himself because he was thinking that she was good for him too, and that was not okay.

Love was not a welcomed thing in his life. It was bad enough that he loved John and Rosie. Bad enough he'd cared deeply for Mary. That was enough people to love. Love made you weak. It weakened your mind and made you do stupid things. No. He didn't want to admit even to himself that he felt anything for Eve.

* * *

Sherlock made his way to the morgue, hoping to shift his mind. He didn't like the feelings that seemed to be trying to take form.

"Nothing else you can tell me about the bodies?" Sherlock asked, knowing damn well she didn't know anything he didn't already know.

Molly hesitated a moment. He seemed distracted tonight. "Is something the matter?" She asked, knowing he would likely brush her off, but she had to ask anyway.

"I…I'm perfectly well." Sherlock shook his head ever so slightly. "Tell me? Why would you shoot a woman in the crotch?"

"I, um." Milly was unprepared for that question. "Well…I wouldn't, however, it seems to me that the shooter attacked both areas that identify the victims as a woman. Maybe he hates them. Or hates their choice of profession."

Yes, he had thought that too. He sat, closing his eyes. He wanted to walk through their houses, side by side. Tomorrow he would contact the victim's families. See if they know anything that could be helpful.

Molly excused herself. She knew what it meant when he sat that way. He seemed so off tonight. It was strange to see him that way. She paused at the door, looking back at the man she desperately wished would love her back. He was odd and could be such an arse, but she hoped he would find someone. She couldn't be sure, but sometimes she wondered if he was lonely.

* * *

Evelyn played the piano, allowing her fingers to glide over the keys. She didn't have to think much to play. At this point it was memory. The song, I get to love you by Ruelle filled her living room. It was a recent favorite of hers.

She was lost in the music when she heard the handle of her door turn, and she was on her feet, ready for whatever when Sherlock entered her flat. "Most people knock," She said, straitening, willing her heart to settle.

"You don't knock on my door," Sherlock replied.

"Your door is always open. Why bother knocking?" Was he okay? He seemed unsettled.

"Do you mind if I listen to you play?" Sherlock asked as he sat on her ridiculous yellow couch. He was oddly tired. Like the fact that he was feeling things he couldn't explain were making him a little nauseous.

Evelyn said nothing as she sat back down, and resumed the song. Once that song finished she played a few more of her favorites.

Sherlock closed his eyes, losing himself in the music. She was good. When she did mess up, she smoothly moved on, not letting others know a mistake was made. Not that she misplayed a lot. He would have to assume she'd been away from the piano for a while. Still, she was good.

After a while, Evelyn turned to see him sleeping. It was odd she decided. Sherlock always seemed hyped up and ready to go. John told her once that he didn't sleep much, and sometimes worried about that. Lack of sleep can make you insane. She would know. She once spent five days with no sleep and by the end of the fifth day, she was sure she was going mad.

Evelyn stood then, not wanting to go down that road. She occupied her mind with getting Sherlock a blanket. Laying it over him, she smiled some. He looked…younger. Less concerned by the world that seemed to intrigue and frustrates him. What was it about him that made her so curious to see inside his mind? She wanted to understand him. Understand why he feels what he feels and thinks what he thinks.

Sherlock Holmes was a mystery for sure. One thing she was sure of though was that he wasn't a sociopath like he wants people to believe. She knew plenty of those to know. Maybe he was borderline that, but still, she thinks he purposefully kept people at arm's length. He believes that feelings are too messy and they will cloud up is mind. She wasn't sure she disagreed. Life was messier when there were people you cared about. She was here now due to letting people in.

* * *

"I think I might puke," Evelyn said, wrinkling up her nose as the stench hit her. Sherlock had dragged her away on another case, and this time she might regret agreeing. She looked over her shoulder at Sherlock and John who were having a disagreement on whether or not their suspect was a drug addict himself, or if he just liked making people overdose.

If you asked her, whatever his goal, it seemed as though he were paranoid. There was tinfoil covering all windows, the door to the bedroom as seven locks, and it looked as if the guy had himself a little hideaway in the closet. There was a mini-fridge in there along with a cot and what looked like a…spear?

"Guys, I don't think this guy is in his right mind. It seems to me that he was afraid of something. She went into the closet, the smell of piss was worse in here, and looked at the other side of the door. Yep, more locks. "Why hide out in there, when there's a whole apartment? The reason the rest of the apartment looks clean is that he lived in this room. More specifically, this closet."

"Yes, I thought so too," Sherlock replied. "I don't think he's using drugs," Sherlock added, eyes John when he sighed. "I think he's mentally ill."

"And that's how the bastard will stay out of jail. The insanity plea." John said, slightly annoyed, though he really couldn't disagree with them. It did seem like this guy was paranoid. "I'm going to call Lestrade. Let him know we found the guy's house."

"I'm surprised he's not here," Sherlock said, picking up a book that was by his feet. He observed it for a moment before tossing it onto the disheveled bed.

Evelyn was about to get out of the smelly closet when out of nowhere sherlock was shoved inside it with her. His weight knocked her to the ground, momentarily knocking her breathless.

When the door slammed behind them, Eve felt her blood run cold as her skin flushed with a raging fire. She could feel the fear tighten her chest, blocking airflow.

"No!" She yelled as she moved and banged on the door. Her irrational fear overrode rational thinking as she was brought back to childhood. Back to that tiny room she'd be locked in for hours and sometimes days at a time. "Let me out! Please! Please!"

"Eve," Sherlock said as he took her face in his hands. It didn't take a genius to realize she was claustrophobic.

"I can't breathe! Oh god, I can't…"

"Close your eyes," Sherlock replied sternly. He repeated the words when she didn't do as asked.

Evelyn closed her eyes. "What are…"

"You are in a field," Sherlock said, cutting her off. "Let the image of the field fill your mind. The grass under your feet is green. Wildflowers of all sorts of colors are growing all around you, swaying in the gentle breeze. You can feel the fresh air on your cheeks." He took his hands from her face and went to the door. Luckily he had his lock picking tools with him. "You look up to the blue sky, accompanied by white clouds. The day is beautiful, is it not?"

"Yes," Evelyn replied as if she were miles away.

"You look to you right where butterflies flutter about, going from flower to flower." Sherlock continued as he worked on the lock, but it wouldn't budge.

"Take a walk," he told her. There's a path nearby, and down that path, there's a stream," he said, going back to her because he wasn't going to be able to pick that lock. He looked around, trying to see another way out. There wasn't one, not that it was a surprise. They were in a closet after all.

"Do you see it? The stream? The sun is dancing on the rippling water."

Evelyn nodded. "Yes."

He hesitated, unsure of taking her hand, and unsure of why he would be hesitant. After a moment, he gently took her hand. "Hold my hand as we go to the other side. I want to show you the meadow."

Evelyn gripped his hand, fighting hard not to lose the images in her head. "How far is it?"

Sherlock smiled. "Not far."

There was a loud noise, bringing Evelyn back to the room. He could feel her heart starting to race again.

"Stay with me," he said, putting his forehead on hers. "come back to the meadow. There are more wildflowers there and birds taking their sweet nectar." He closed his eyes as a feeling settled over him. A feeling that was almost overwhelming. What was it?

Evelyn took his other hand in hers, willing the meadow to come back. "Okay, I'm back."

"Good," Sherlock replied, though he somehow seemed out of words. Her breath on his face seemed to empty his mind. "Just stand here with me a moment. Listen to the stream and allow it to soothe you."

The door opened then, light streamed in, blinding them both. John stood there, shocked. "Need help?" He said, looking baffled.

"John!" Evelyn replied as she ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. "Oh thank god you found us!"

Sherlock followed her out, though he didn't greet John the way she did. I'm fact, his mind had already moved past the, thanks for saving us, stage. "Come, John. We have a criminal to catch."

"Don't worry," Lestrade said, looking smug. "We've got him."

"What happened in there?" John asked as Evelyn pulled away, clearly trying to compose herself.

Evelyn shook her head, trying to convince her stomach not to be sick. "Nothing. I'm fine. Just need fresh air," she said, walking from the room.

John looked at Sherlock with questioning eyes. "Well?"

"She didn't say, and neither shall I," Sherlock replied. He wasn't sure why Eve wouldn't want John to know about the Claustrophobia, but if she didn't want John to know, he wouldn't say.

John looked after Sherlock in confusion. Well, whatever happened, he certainly found them both in a vulnerable state. Something he never thought he'd see as far as Sherlock was concerned.

**…..**

**I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated. Thanks :D**


	7. Recklessness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know so many of us are probably sick and tired of the virus talk, but I just wanted to say that I hope all my readers and their families are doing well. Also want to put a shout-out to all the essential workers/first responders/doctors/nurses and anyone who finds themselves exposed to this on a daily bases due to being needed, thank you all for being there and working hard when I'm sure all you want to do is be safe and with your loved ones. Thank you. Now, I hope you all enjoy this chapter :D

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. All credit goes to the writer/creators of the show** **s**

…

Evelyns stomach still recoiled as she stood in her shower. The memories seemed to relentless as she fought to put them back into the box she'd hidden them in.

But here they were. Haunting her. God, she remembered everything about that room in the basement. The bugs, the smell of earth, how deafening the silence was. The way the dark played tricks on her mind. The pains of hunger that would have her dry heaving.

Put it away! She said to herself as she sat in her tub. Put it away. Put it away. She wasn't there anymore. She had food in her belly every night. She never had to sit in the dark, or feel bugs crawl on her. She was not a Child. She was a grown woman. She was okay.

* * *

Sherlock, for the first time in his life, was aching to see someone. No. No that wasn't true. This feeling was similar to how he felt when John was out of his reach or hurting.

He would never say it to John because it would make him uncomfortable, but he loved John more then a friend should.

The fear in Eve's eyes made him feel…uneasy. He wanted to know why. He couldn't really say why, but he was sure that it was more than a case of claustrophobia. Somehow it seemed more. Deeper.

Maybe it was because he was sure there was more to her then he could read. She wasn't really who she pretends to be. It's like what she showed was just a little part of the whole. He was sure she was good. That's about all he was sure of.

He wanted to help, but he wasn't exactly good at doing the whole comforting thing. How could he help when he wasn't sure what the problem was? He sat, bringing his hands together as he thought.

He could just ignore all of this. Get lost in the case with the prostitutes, but that one wasn't going anywhere. He'd talked to next of kins, and friends. The woman didn't know each other. They didn't travel in the same circle. Nothing to link them outside of their profession.

He mind shifted back to Eve, and he groaned to himself. What the bloody hell was this? Why did he care so much? She was just a woman. Why did she capture his attention so?

He glanced at the clock when the sound of her piano reached his ears. It was three in the morning and she was up too. Inspiration hit, causing him to smile as he went for his violin. He made his way downstairs and didn't bother knocking. He just let himself in.

Eve was clearly startled for just a moment, though she didn't miss a beat. Sherlock stood beside the piano and they played together. He finished this song with her, and then lead her into the next song. When one played something the other didn't recognize, they made it up as they went.

After a fast-paced song, Sherlock slowed things down, switching to something that was his. The sound was achingly longing. For a moment, Eve just watched him play, looking at him with pain in her eyes. She looked so grief-stricken he thought about switching tunes, but she started playing with him.

It was beautiful, the melody she added. She added a hopeful sound to the melody that mixed splendidly with the song he composed.

"It's late," Eve said a while later as the sun started to brighten the sky.

"Actually, it's early," Sherlock replied. "You play well."

"So you've said. Thank you." She stood, going into her tiny kitchen and pulled down a mug. "Can I offer you coffee?"

"No. I should be working on a case. I just was distracted earlier."

"My playing?" Eve asked curiously.

"No. Your pain." What? What was he saying? Why should he care? This was why he didn't want or need friends. They made things sticky and messy. She was an unwelcome distraction!

His response was clearly a surprise to her. She looked at him, momentarily wide-eyed. She wasn't expecting that response.

"What case are you working on?" She asked, continuing to make the coffee.

"Murdered prostitutes. Can't seem to find the connection, and there's a count down. They plan on murdering six women. Assuming he can stop there."

"Jesus," Eve said, turning to him. "Is it another Jack the Ripper copycat?"

"No, but it's just as brutal."

Eve played with the handle of the cup. "I'm fine you know. I appreciate your concern, but…I'm okay."

"Then tell me that while looking at me in the eyes."

She looked up, locking her eyes with his. "I'm Fine. I promise."

And there it was. The shift. Like she was going from one character to the other. She was fine. Calm.

"Anyway. If you need help with the case, I'm happy to give you a hand."

"No, that's okay," Sherlock replied. "I can handle this one." Sherlock quickly made his way out the door. He didn't know if he could trust her. He felt that since the beginning. How could he trust someone who seemingly plays a part? Yet, he trusted her. It was odd, the trust and yet mistrust that he felt. She wasn't what she seemed, but somehow he could say she wasn't there to hurt them.

He needed to keep her at arm's length. It was as simple as that. He couldn't allow her to get so close to him. Not until he understood what it was about her.

"Morning," John said as Sherlock entered their flat. "You look horrible."

"Haven't slept," Sherlock replied as he laid on the couch, turning his back towards John.

John said nothing. He was on his way out and didn't have time to try to figure out what was on Sherlock's mind. "Well, Rosie and I are off."

"Keep your distance from Eve," Sherlock said.

"Excuse me?" John replied. "Why?"

"Just be cautious, John, Would you?"

John shook his head slightly due to confusion. "Sure, Sherlock. Whatever you say." Again, he didn't have time to worry just now. He would push for more information later.

* * *

**One Month Later**

Evelyn cooked with a babe on her hip. Sherlock and John were busy on a case, and the babysitter needed to be relieved, so here she was, cooking dinner while watching Rosie.

For a while, she was worried that she'd somehow broken the trust between her and Sherlock. He'd seemed distant for a week or so after that morning in her kitchen, but he soon came back around and before she knew it everything was back to normal. Or at least she thinks it was. There were times when Sherlock seemed…off.

She smiled when the memory of John slipped into her mind. "Don't worry about Sherlock. He doesn't know how to act like a human being." He'd said so seriously it made her laugh.

She shifted Rosie to her other hip, once again putting her hand on Rosie's forehead. She seemed a little warm. She didn't overly worry because she knew a tooth was coming in, and babies could run a little warm when they were teething. She reached into the freezer to see if the boppy was ready, and it was.

She would never forget the first time she'd heard of Boppy. Oliver was teething and Rachel informed her that she had Boppy in the freezer. Apparently, in her family, they take a washcloth and band it together to look like a bunny. They call it Boppy. Boppy would then run underwater and put in the freezer to freeze some. It was funny, but it worked.

"Here you go," She said, prompting Rosie to suck on it. "You know, my little boy was about your age when he started teething. Oh, he was not a happy camper. You are taking this much better than he did." Evelyn laughed. "I miss that kid."

* * *

"Shhh," Evelyn tried to soothe. Rosie was fussy and nothing was helping. Poor little lamb. "It's alright, love. It's alright." Evelyn added as she bounced her. "Goodness I know," she went on, talking in soft tones.

After a while, Evelyn decided a shower was in order. She was unsure if Rosie would like the shower, but soon found it was the best idea all night. She went from crying her little heart out to sleeping within minutes. Evelyn didn't mind standing in the shower until the water ran cold. Rosie was soothed and that's all she cared about.

After the shower, Evelyn dressed Rosie in warm clothes, then went to her own flat wrapped in a towel to get warm clothes for herself. It was starting to get cold, making it a bit cooler indoors.

While in her flat she grabbed her crochet hook and project she was currently working on. She would get Rosie down, and crochet some. It was a good way to keep herself busy.

* * *

Sherlock and John followed the sound of Evelyn's singing up to John's room. When they looked in, both smiled at the sight. A sleepy Rosie sat between Eve's legs, playing with a toy while Eve sang a soft song and Crocheted.

"This is what I don't want her to miss," John whispered softly, wiping at a tear. "I want Rosie to have a mom. Someone like her."

Sherlock looked back to the girls, and he had to admit it even warmed his heart. They looked like a picture together, sitting on John's bed. John would look good there with them. And that brought on a feeling Sherlock was unfamiliar with. Though he'd felt it a few times before and each time she was around.

He had a feeling Eve would make a great mom. Odd how his heart ached as he thought about John making Eve his wife. He wanted it for John. Wanted the only person he could admit to loving to be happy. Still, he felt the ache.

He didn't like it. He didn't like this feeling. Didn't like that he was so unsure of her intentions. Didn't like that he trusted her in spite of knowing something was off. Hated that his best friend was falling for her. Hated that he knew she'd be good for him when he himself was…

"Shower," Sherlock said, leaving John looking after him confused.

He himself what? Sherlock thought to himself as he stepped under the hot water. He knows the words he was about to think. He knows how they made his heart pound in his chest, but he would use them. No. He was far too rational. He knew what these feelings would do to him. He'd avoided this very thing all his life because it would only serve as a distraction.

Oh, but she was a distraction he enjoyed. She was smart. Not as smart as him, but her mind was good. She sees the world in a practical way, and he could appreciate that.

And she has a kind smile and eyes that could capture a man's soul. Her laugh was contagious and her tears could rip a hole in you.

Sherlock shook his head as he covered his face with his hands. Good god, what was happening to him? He didn't want this. He didn't ask for this. He was always so careful. Even with Irene, he had been able to keep and distance.

He would have to be more careful. He'd distance himself mentally when she was around. Give her to John. He could stay away if they were truly happy together.

He had to. If he allowed her to get any closer she'd ruin him. She'd unravel him, allowing his very being to become unhinged. She'd see all parts of him. The good, the bad, and the parts he'd kept hidden from everyone, including himself.

Evelyn Clarke could break him.

* * *

"We found this," Lestrade said, handing a datebook to Sherlock.

Sherlock took it, reading the last entry. 'New client. Usually don't take them without a date first but this guy was yummy.'

Sherlock looked over at the woman lying in the bed. Shot three times just like the other two. She was just a baby. Eighteen if he had to guess.

She wasn't as tidy as the other two. There was a child-like order to her space which helped him guess the age. She was a child, so her space mirrored that.

Her clients were less likely to be of any importance. Just a bunch of John Smiths looking for a good time.

Looking through her datebook he found that she didn't have a steady rate. New clients were charged more than those who were repeats. Men who are bad in bed got slapped with an extra charge while those who were amazing in bed would get a ten percent discount.

No, she wasn't as selective with her clients, but she still used discretion. She used initials with quick notes to remind her of who each one was.

"No matter how many times I see this," John said, looking pale. He looked at the wall where three out of six was written in the victim's own blood. "Three more women were to share this fate."

"Not if I have anything to say about it." Sherlock replied.

* * *

"My Ivy. So glad you could join me," Elijah said, waving a hand in way of asking her to sit.

"Could this dress be any tighter?" Evelyn replied, sitting. He'd sent a red dress this time. The kind that hugged every curve and showed you off. It was long, making it annoying to walk in.

"You look gorgeous. Which is good."

"Why is that?" Evelyn asked as she covered her wine glass. She hated white wine and wasn't in the mood to pretend otherwise.

"Tell me, Anything knew with Sherlock?" Elijah asked, clearly avoiding the question.

"Nothing of interest. He's currently stumped on a serial killer who seems to be targeting prostitutes. I'd bet my bank that it's a professional. They clean up way to nice not to be."

"If so, I wonder if we know them," Elijah sipped his wine as if he didn't just wonder if he was acquainted with a murderer. "No interest in theft?"

"No. Actually, theft doesn't seem to be their area of interest. I really don't think you have anything to worry a…" She stopped mid-sentence when she spotted him. Her stomach tightened with unease and she thought for sure her heart would stop. "What is this," she asked, looking at Elijah.

"Emmanuel!" Elijah said, standing to greet the man. "Please, join us old friend."

"Yes, Of course," Emmanuel said, taking a seat.

"Surely you remember my daughter."

"How can I forget?" Emmanuel said, reaching his hand out for hers. "Ivy, you look ravishing, my darling."

She had to swallow the acid that had crept up. She took his hand, praying neither of then noticed how it shook. "Emmanuel," she said, hating the way her voice broke.

"Now to business," Emmanuel said, looking at Elijah. "What can I do for you?"

"You have something I want," Elijah replied, pausing when the food was placed on the table. "Jackson, I assume is still under your employ?"

"Indeed?"

"I need him. There's a target that requires his flexibility."

She spaced them out now, focusing on her food. She was here for a reason, and now she feared she knew what it was. For sure, it was to soften Emmanuel. He knew the man was sweet on her. Hopefully, he was unaware of who Oliver's father was. That was a compilation she didn't need.

She wanted to cry when memories forced their way to the forefront of her mind. He could be so kind. So caring and sweet. He would make you feel as though no other woman came close to you. Then he would tear you apart. He would strike you down. He would make you sink so low it was as if you were drowning and just when you thought death would surely come, he would reach out for you with such tenderness you would take his hand, and breathe in his warmth, even though you knew it was he who was drowning you.

He knew just how far to push. Just how hard to strike you so it didn't leave a bruise. He liked to control his woman and when you are as young and desperate as she was, you let him control you. You let him use you and treat you like dirt because at least he loved you. Fed you. Made you feel like a queen. At least until he didn't.

"So Jackson will get twenty percent the profit."

"What about me? What do I get for allowing you to use him?"

"What is it you desire?"

Emmanuel looked at Evelyn and her blood ran cold. "How about a night with your lovely daughter?"

"No." Evelyn stood, slamming her hands on the table. "I refuse!" She started to walk away when a large hand caught her arm.

"I will tell him about Olive if you refuse," Elijah said, whispering in her ear.

Evelyn couldn't help the tears. The fear threatened to overwhelm her, but she had to keep it at bay. "Fine. Call me with the details." She jerked her arm free and knew that this exit might cost her, but he got what he wanted. She was his bargaining chip.

* * *

"I need a drink," Evelyn said as she stood in Sherlock's doorway. Sherlock was nowhere to be found, but that hardly mattered at the moment.

"Evelyn? You looked great." John said. Hell, she looked gorgeous. "Something wrong?"

"Do you have alcohol or not?" She asked, not in the mood for the small talk.

"Yeah," John said, going to the liquor cabinet. He pulled out a bottle of Grey Goose, and a bottle of whiskey. "What's your poison?"

"Whiskey, she said, taking the bottle. She wasted no time removing the lid and taking a few gulps, which burned like the acid that tried to come up did. She coughed, regretting her actions. Okay, note to self, she thought as she took a moment to recover, don't gulp down whiskey.

"Bad night?" John asked, pulling down two glasses.

"Horrible," she replied, handing him the bottle, then taking the cup he offered. "To shitty nights." she toasted, before taking a sip.

* * *

They laughed so hard she could hardly breathe! Her mind was mush and her vision was starting to blur. "This bloody dress is suffocating me!" she exclaimed as she struggled off the floor where she and John had fallen after tripping over themselves as they pretended to ballroom dance.

"I think there's a rip in it," John said amused, as he touched her thigh, where there was, in fact, was a rip.

"Well then you might as well finish the job or I might never get up!" Evelyn laughed. She laughed, even more, when John ripped the dress more, but the task was a lot easier said than done, only leading to more laughter.

"This zipper is so small," john informed as he struggled to undo it, but soon enough the task was done, and he helped her get out of the dress.

"Whew, I can breathe." Evelyn giggled as she lay on the floor in her slip. It didn't bother her at all that she lie there with John, even as his hand rested on her hip. She was too drunk to care, and John was a soothing soul to be around.

John looked at her exposed thigh, and while he would later regret this, he couldn't stop himself in the moment. He leaned over, kissing her though softly. He felt her stiffen and backed away immediately. "Forgive me," he said as he sat up, the laughter leaving her face.

"No, it's okay," She replied, leaning closer to him. She put her hand on his face before leaning in and kissing him. She kissed him deeply, willing herself to feel something. Anything for this man who was so good. So kind.

She teared up as she pulled away. "You are exactly what I need."

She kissed him again, as she straddled him. They both laughed some as she struggled to get his shirt off. As she did so, his hands found her breast, causing her to breathe out in a whoosh. It had been so long since she allowed anyone to touch her. To see her.

She hardly had time to recover from sensation when his mouth found her nipple, causing her to arch her back. She moved now, taking the slip off, and throwing it behind her. She giggled as she kissed John again, trying to ignore his hands which ran down her sides to her hips, no doubt feeling the scars she bore.

A voice cleared behind her, pulling them both from the drunken sex-crazed mindset. When they both looked to the noise they saw Sherlock standing there with Molly, both of them clearly surprised. "John?" Sherlock said. "I've been calling."

"Oh?" John said, looking for his phone lazily, too drunk to care that they'd been caught.

Evelyn looked down, avoiding Sherlock's gaze. She didn't want to see his judging eyes. She was afraid they would be angry. Even more afraid they'd look uncaring. Both of which were foolish. She wasn't supposed to care. She wasn't supposed to get this close.

She felt as though she sobered some as she grabbed the slip and pulled it back on. Her cheeks burned because she could see Sherlock looking at her scars. She knew they were ugly. She couldn't blame him if he thought so.

"I think I should go," She said, running past them, fleeing like a child embarrassed by being caught doing things she knew she shouldn't be doing.

Once home, she sat on the couch feeling sick. How had she let things get so far? She shouldn't be getting drunk with them. What if she had slipped? Said something that tipped them off? And worse? She was getting John's hopes up. She knows she doesn't like him in that way, and here she was, trying to have sex with him.

And for what? Because she was scared? Lonely? So lost in her own soul that she has to latch on to the closest bright light? Because those two make her feel as though she can breathe a little. She was a horrible human. She used and cheated. She hurt everyone who loves her.

Elijah had told her as much, hadn't he? How many times had he told her she would taint everything she touched? That she was like a slow poison, his ivy. That's why her mom killed herself. She'd rather be dead then have to raise a poisoned apple. Maybe he was right.

* * *

"Maybe I should go," Molly said, feeling the anger rolling off Sherlock in waves. Was it because he was in love with Evelyn? She'd wondered as much. Evelyn was a nice woman and didn't seem much bothered by how harsh Sherlock could be.

She hated the woman. Okay, not really. But still. The scene clearly shifted Sherlock's mood and she figured he would no longer be interested in investigating the prostitute murders just now. Neither of the guys said anything, so she took it upon herself to let herself out.

John stood, tucking himself back in his pants. "You okay?" John asked. Ha, what a dumb question. Shit his head was spinning. And Sherlock was upset. How had he let things go so far? Worse, he wasn't sure if he should go find Evelyn and make sure she's okay or if he should let her be.

He turned to Sherlock because he never answered and the next thing he knew, Sherlock's fist was hitting his face. Too drunk to stay on his feet, he fell to the ground. Sherlock left, leaving him there to pick himself up.

….

**I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated. Thanks :D**


	8. To Hell And Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello my lovely readers, I hope you are all doing well! I want to put in a couple warnings for this chapter as it has rape and attempted suicide in it. So please read with caution. I would also like to add that I mention a book called Naked in Death by JD Robb. If you have not read the series and are into murder mysteries and romance, it's an absolutely fantastic series and I highly recommend it! Eve (haha) and Roarke are such a great duo, add an all the amazing supporting characters…anyway lol it's a great read. I also want to thank all who leave reviews. It means a lot to me. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. PS, it's a happy coincident that the oc in this story is named Evelyn (Eve) I didn't realize the irony of it until later :D
> 
> …

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. All credit goes to the writer/creators of the show**

…..

Evelyn woke with one hell of a hangover. Her head pounded and the thought of putting anything in her stomach made it roll. Slowly she sat, hoping to keep whatever was in her stomach down, but the moment she sat up, her head spun and she ran for the bathroom, barely making it before throwing up.

It didn't take long for the dry heaving to start and in her opinion that was almost worse than actually throwing something up. As she sat there, hovering her head over the toilet, flashes of the night before played in her mind, making her sick for a different reason.

She almost had sex with John, which was horrible. Matters were only made worse because Sherlock caught them. How could they had been so careless? How could she had been so careless? She wanted to cry as she remembered the look in Sherlock's eyes.

Had he loved John more then she realized? Did it hurt him to see John with someone else? Or, was it her? She thought about the conversation they had after they got locked into the closet. He'd said her pain distracted him. Could it be that he was…

Tears stung her eyes as she clutched her chest. No. No, he can't be, and she shouldn't feel even a little happy about it. She was spying on them. Using them so she could get her family back. She shook her head. She needed to keep her shit together before everything comes crashing down.

Once she was sure she wouldn't be sick anymore, she went to the living room, feeling like the dead as she laid on her couch. When her phone Dinged, she looked at it expecting it to be either John or Sherlock, but it was Elijah. The text read, 'Five weeks from tomorrow you will be spending the weekend with Emmanuel. No complaints, you're the one who walked out.'

Now she felt sick again but this time all she did was close her eyes in surrender. Maybe this was her punishment for messing with John and Sherlock's feelings. Whether or not she meant too. She felt anxiety about spending the weekend with him, but the weeks leading up to it was going to be even worse.

* * *

**Five weeks later**

"You haven't said a word to her," John said to Sherlock as they put up Christmas decorations for the coming party. Not that either of them were feeling festive. Ever since Sherlock had caught him with Evelyn everything has seemingly changed. Sherlock seems less inclined to talk to him. All he does is work and beat himself up over this Prostitute case, and there has been yet another murder.

Evelyn stopped coming around as often, and when she did, she seemed miles away. She doesn't say much more than pleasantries and makes sure that they've been eating. When he tries to engage her further she asks about the case they are working on.

John hated it. It seems so silly for the two of them to be acting like children. Ugh. Who was he kidding? Evelyn seemed so sad, and Sherlock so mad. He just wished he understood. Even if Sherlock had a thing for her, why was she sad? And if Sherlock has a thing for her he needs to stop being a Jerk and Fess up!

"I have nothing to say," Sherlock replied after some time, pulling John from his privet rant. "She's just the tenet downstairs."

"Bullocks," John replied shaking his head. "You know, for the smartest man I know, you can be seriously stupid."

"I'm done with this conversation, John. Move on."

"Fine then, you want to tell me what happened to your scarf?"

Sherlock thought back to the lunch he'd shared with Eve the month before. John was at work and she'd found him going mad, so suggested they go out. From there, they walked, just walked. He liked that she didn't need to fill the silence with mindless chatter. She was content to just be and allow him to think. They discussed the case he was currently on with the nun, allowing him to get his thoughts about it in the open. He hadn't realized he left his scarf until he got home, and it wasn't at the deli they had lunch at either. "I lost it, I told you that."

"Yes, why not get a new one?" He only asked because it was bloody cold out and Sherlock shivered every time they were out. It was getting annoying.

"I liked my old one. The new ones don't feel right."

"You leaving dear?" Mrs. Hudson's voice said from downstairs, catching both of their attentions.

"Yes, for the weekend," Evelyn replied. Even John could tell she was faking the joy in her tone.

"Well, have fun." Mrs. Hudson said before the sound of her heading up the stairs had both of them continuing their tasks. "It looks lovely in here," she said happily.

* * *

"Don't look so put out," Emmanuel said as he hugged Evelyn to him, breathing her in. "Oh how I've longed to be reunited with you."

"Looks like you've got your wish," Evelyn replied. The hotel suite was unsurprisingly large. It was like a tiny flat. Outside she could hear the ocean. Florida. They were on the beaches of Daytona Beach, and with their window open she could hear the waves.

"Why don't you come sit with me? So much to talk about, yes?"

She held in her fear as she crossed the room to where he now sat. She sat, not surprised that he put his arm around her. "My Ivy," he whispered in her ear before nibbling it. "You taste just as I remember."

Later that night as he fucked her, she looked up at the ceiling, trying to pretend she was elsewhere. She didn't want to be there. She wasn't there. No, this was someone else getting used. Being hurt. This disconnection got her into trouble, however. He struck her when she refused to make a noise. If she wouldn't moan from pleasure, she would cry in pain.

* * *

The next morning she watched the sunrise over the water. It was beautiful, and though the morning air was chilly, she decided to go for a swim. She didn't even care that she was in normal clothes.

The water was icy cold, but she kept going in, deeper and deeper until she could hardly touch the bottom. She rode the waves, and for a moment, just a moment she wondered what it would be like if she let the water claim her. All her pain would be gone. She would be gone.

It was at this moment when a wave overtook her, and she found it impossible to fight. Death seemed better. Why go back to a life that caused her nothing but pain? Why go back when she caused nothing but pain? She put the lives of those she loved in danger. They would all be better without her.

Oliver's face filled her mind, kicking new life into her. Wait! What would happen to him if she died? He could end up in Elijah's grasps forever! Rachel would be heartbroken too. She couldn't leave them! But she couldn't move, she couldn't find the surface. Help! Someone! Anyone! Help!

* * *

"Ivy! Oh god! Ivy!" A deep voice said, reaching her ears. She didn't like this voice, but she knew it's the one she needed to follow.

Evelyn opened her eyes, closing them quickly. They stung from the salt, and so did her throat. Hell even her lungs felt like sandpaper. She coughed, but that only made everything hurt worse.

"Oh thank god," Emmanuel said, as he hugged her to him. He was being kind. For now. "I have you, let's get you warm."

She shivered even as she was surrounded by warm water. She couldn't believe she was going to let herself die like that. What had she been thinking!

"You warming up?" Emmanuel asked as he sat on the toilet next to the tub.

"Yes."

"Ivy, why didn't you fight? Why would you…"

"I hate you." She said the words before she could stop herself. She looked at him now, surprised to see hurt there, not anger. "I hate everything we've ever had."

"The piano? Do you hate that?"

She looked away now, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her head on them. "I love the piano, but I don't play for you."

"You always were strong-spirited. That's part of your charm. And because I almost lost you today, I will allow those mean things you said to slide." He reached down, forcing her to look at him with his thumb and forefinger. "But you best remember to watch your tongue, Ivy. I will not take this kind of backtalk for the rest of the time we have."

She jerked her chin from him, thankful that he left after that. She would have to get her emotions back in check. She had to make it back, and she'd like to make it back without a second bruise on her face.

Later that night, Evelyn stood by the window as the storm raged. With all the lights off, she could see it clearly. The flashes of lightning briefly lit up the ocean, exposing the raging waves below. She felt a kinship to the storm. If she had to explain how she felt inside, this would be it. The falling rain, the sound of thunder, the flash of lightning. The waves crashing against the shore, rubbing her raw.

She cried silently as she thought about her flat back home. Somehow she'd settled into it better then she thought she would. Or maybe it was Mrs. Hudson's kindness. Or Sherlock and John who she never imagined she would feel so close to. She missed hearing John walking about with Rosie in the middle of the night, or Sherlock playing his violin because he was restless.

She'd only been gone for a weekend, and yet it felt like ages since she'd left. Though she had a feeling that had to do more with the distance she'd put between them. Since the night she'd almost had sex with John she'd put up a wall. She was getting too close. Way too close.

She had to still be there. She had to interact with them to know what case they're working on. The prostitute case was still driving Sherlock mad. John said Sherlock feels as though there's a part of the puzzle missing. Still they never take on theft cases. A missing person case was solved simply enough. There was something about a murdered widow not too long ago.

She hadn't said a word to Sherlock, nor had he to her. John was awkward enough to talk to, but Sherlock didn't seem at all interested in anything she had to say. It hurt, but she supposed it was for the better. She knew the feelings that warmed her heart and tightened her chest, and there was no way she could act on them. She was falling in love with Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

By the time Evelyn arrived back home, the Christmas party had started. John had invited her, and she decided she needed the company. She quickly got ready, pulling on her black turtle neck and a fresh pair of jeans. She added a pair of knee-high boots and used make-up to conceal her bruising face and cut lip. The lipstick nearly concealed the split lip, but the bruise was still noticeable. Not as much, but still there.

She gathered the gifts, using a few fabric bags to bring them all up. She started up the stairs, and it seemed to strike her how she'd spent two days in hell, and now she was getting ready to walk in a room that was full of laughter. She hesitated halfway up, readying herself.

"Evelyn!" John said as soon as she stepped in. "Happy Christmas Eve!" he went to her, taking the gifts and adding them to the pile that was already by the tree.

"Hey, how are you?" Molly asked as Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson waved from where they were.

Evelyn was about to reply, but Sherlock had walked over to her quickly, taking her chin in his fingers, making her look up at him. His eyes looked worried as hers met his. "What happened to you?"

His kindness unraveled her some. She had to take a moment to put her emotions back in the box. "I managed to get it while playing a sports game. Really a sad story actually. My team lost." She laughed, hopefully making the story seem more believable.

Sherlock still held her chin, and stood too close. She needed him to stop looking at her the way he did because she couldn't take it. She couldn't take any of this anymore.

"Sherlock," John said after a moment. All eyes were on them. Sherlock let go, saying nothing.

Evelyn smiled as she spotted Rosie. "How's my little Rosebud?" She asked as she picked her up. She must have grown over the weekend. God they always seem to grow so fast.

As she held Rosie, she realized this would be the first Christmas she didn't spent with Oliver and Rachel. She couldn't even call.

Pulling herself from her own misery, she joined in the fun. They all talked about Christmas past, and Sherlock played some Christmas music on his Violin. They ate great food and they all really seemed so happy.

Once the party started winding down, presents for those who didn't live in the building were given and received. Mrs. Hudson got and gave hers, before retiring.

"I can help clean up," Evelyn said, as she entered the room from putting Rosie down.

"No, that's not necessary," John said, handing her a present. "From me and Rosie."

Mrs. Hudson bought her a scarf, and Molly got her leg warmers. Lestrade gave her a gift card while claiming he was horrible at the whole gift-giving thing. She hadn't expected those gifts, and she didn't expect this one either.

She opened the box to find pearls. Like, real pearls. "Oh, John. You shouldn't have."

"Maybe. But I wanted to." He helped her put them on and smiled. "Almost as lovely as the woman wearing them."

She blushed as she shook her head. "Thank you, John." She said as she went to the gift table. "This is for you."

He opened it and smiled as tears sprang to his eyes. It was a picture of him holding Rosie and their noses were touching, both of them smiling. It put on a pretty scrapbook page. Black and white being the main colors. The words 'The love between a father and daughter is forever. "I love this."

"I thought you would. I was just snapping pictures with my phone, and this was a lucky shot. So I made a scrapbook page and put it all in a frame." She returned to the gifts to grab Sherlock's. "I made you something too."

Sherlock walked over, taking the gift. He opened it, and John groaned a little. Sherlock held the scarf and looked at it with an unreadable expression.

"I figured it could replace your old one. I found a color that's close to your other one. I chose soft yarn too."

John was about ready to tell Sherlock to be nice when Sherlock put the scarf on. "Thank you," he said, seemingly meaning the words he spoke. "No one has ever made anything for me."

Evelyn smiled. "You're welcome."

John's mouth fell open in shock. Sherlock seemed genuine. He seemed rather moved by the gift, actually.

* * *

By the time she got out of the shower she was so ready for bed, she was sure her legs would give out at any moment. She wasn't physically exhausted, but mentally. To go from the nightmare of spending a weekend with Emmanuel, to a light holiday party had a bit of a whiplash effect. Add spending hours and hours on a plane, and you get tired.

Though the emotional state didn't make matters easier. She was a good swimmer, and for just a moment, she was going to let the waves carry her away. How selfish. God, how incredibly selfish! How could she for even a moment contemplate doing what she had damned her own mother for doing? She was just going to leave behind all who cared for her because of what? She was too weak?

"Do you love John?"

Evelyn gasped, jumping away from the sound, her towel falling off of her with the motion. The second her eyes landed on Sherlock, her heart settled some, but blood rushed to her cheeks. "Why are you in my room?" He was just sitting there on her bed like it was something he always did.

His mood seemed impossible to read. Was he angry? Hurt? She knew he was looking at her, taking in all the scars.

"Are you in love with John?" He asked again slowly.

Evelyn took a moment to retrieve her towel and wrapped herself in it again. "Sherlock…"

"It is a simple question." Sherlock stood. "Yes or no?" he added, getting annoyed.

"No." She sat on the bed, burying her face in her hands. Put your emotions in the box! She screamed at herself. She couldn't handle this conversation. She was falling apart. Shit. "I want to. He's so kind. He cares about me. I'm not sure any man has ever really cared about me before. But…"

Sherlock sat beside her. "Here," he said, handing her a package that was no bigger than a ring box.

Evelyn blinked a couple of times out of confusion. Was he here to yell at her or to be nice to her? "Sherlock I."

"I don't like seeing your face bruised up, and I don't buy that you got it playing a game." He looked at her now, passion burning in his eyes. "I don't like that you feel as though you have to lie to me, and I know that you are. I don't like that I can't truly read you, and I don't like that I can't seem to stay away. And I really didn't like catching you naked with my best friend."

Evelyn looked down at the little box, unsure of what to say. She wanted to come clean. Explain why she was there and how much she hated it. She wanted to tell him she feared for her son and best friend. She wanted to tell him that her face ached and that she spent a weekend in hell and all she really needed was a hug. She wanted to tell it all.

So she cried. God how many times was she going to cry in front of this man? How pathetic had she become? "I just…I don't know what you want me to say," she said as the tears fell down her cheeks.

She stiffened when he took her in his arms. For one, she was always wary of people touching her. For another, Sherlock wasn't the comforting kind, and she was surprised. "I'm sorry."

"No need to be," he replied. He didn't like seeing her crying either. What was happening to him? "Don't fall for John," Sherlock said before he could catch himself. "I…I don't want you to be with him."

She pulled away to look at his face. "You're worried I will hurt him?" She understood that. This wasn't the first time he'd said something like this to her.

"No. I didn't like catching you two together because it…Hurt." He put his hand over his chest as if this feeling caught him off guard. Or maybe this was the first time he could put a word to the emotion.

Her heart skipped a beat. Or at least she thinks it did. Wait, was he saying he was falling for her? She thought back over their conversation. He didn't like seeing her hurt. That meant he at least cared, right?

"Sherlock…I'm not." he cut her off by putting his finger to her lips.

"You needn't say anything just now. I would actually appreciate it if you'd pretend what happened here tonight didn't happen. At least for a bit." He stood then. He looked at the bruise on her face and swore he would hurt the person who put it there. "Goodnight, and Happy Christmas."

She opened her gift once he left. It was a thumb drive, so she got comfortable with her laptop and played the file that read 'For you'. The song he played was achingly beautiful. It was the best gift she ever received.

* * *

Sherlock was relieved to come home and see her cozy on his couch with a book. Rosie was looking at a book of her own beside her, looking amused. John was setting up the high chair and nodded at Sherlock in greeting.

"Where did you get off to?" John asked. Sherlock had been gone all morning. Back when he'd first met the man this behavior was unusual, but now he knew it to be a normal thing. For Sherlock anyway.

"Nowhere in particular," Sherlock replied. This reply was also one John came to expect from his best friend.

Sherlock sat in his chair. He'd been walking around, mulling the prostitute case around his head. He was sure there was a piece of the puzzle missing and that was making it hard to figure out.

"What are you reading?" Sherlock asked Eve.

She looked up at him, with a smile. The split lip was healed up nicely and the bruising on her cheek was nearly gone. "Naked in Death. I love this series, I've probably read it a thousand times."

"Hmm," Sherlock said, amused. She took comfort in stories she knows the endings too. Not surprising. He believes she's had enough surprises in her life. She was haunted by enough ghosts.

John put Rosie in her chair as she protested. She wasn't done with her book, but it was time to eat. "Come on, Rosie. I have to get going."

Eve stood as well, stretching some. "I have to go too," she walked over to Rosie and kissed her forehead. "You guys want to do dinner later?"

"Sounds good," John said as he gave Rosie her plate. "Molly will be by in thirty minutes for Rosie, do you have her until then?" John asked Sherlock.

"We'll manage," he said, watching them both go.

"And then there were two," he said to Rosie who was now happily eating her spaghetti. Sherlock walked over to her, and put his hand on her head. "You look so much like your mum."

He thought of Eve now. Did her child look like her? Yes, he was sure she had a child. She had stretch marks to suggest so, and something told him she was never overweight. Why did she never talk about having one? Perhaps too painful? Yeah, that was probably it.

* * *

Evelyn woke to knocking on her door. She glanced at the clock. It was one in the morning. She guessed it wasn't Sherlock because he had a habit of just waltzing in. John has a heavier knock.

She opened the door, sleepy-eyed, and saw Molly with Rosie. "I'm sorry to wake you, but I have to go to work, and John was supposed to pick Rosie up hours ago," Molly said as she passed the sleeping Rosie to Evelyn.

"Sherlock isn't home?" Evelyn asked. She didn't have an objection to taking Rosie, but usually Sherlock would be the first choice.

"He's not home either. I'm sorry, I've got to go!"

Evelyn said goodnight to Molly who was already leaving. With a yawn, she went back to bed, tucking Rosie safe to her side.

* * *

Eve woke with a start, only getting started farther because Sherlock was standing over them, looking anxious.

"I have Rosie," she said, stating the obvious. Rosie sat up with her, reaching for Sherlock. "Molly brought her late last night. John was MIA."

"John is missing," Sherlock replied, taking Rosie into his arms. "He never showed to work. I found this in his case that was found in the trash." Sherlock held up a peacock feather."

Evelyn's blood ran cold as she looked at the feather. No…John.

"Worry not. I will find him," Sherlock said with fire in his eyes. "I will find him."

…

**I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated. Thanks :D**


	9. A Deal With The Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for such a late update. My laptop has decided it was going to die on me *cries* So I've been doing all my writing on my phone which is a lot slower than typing on my laptop. Once I finished this chapter, I then had to wait to use my husband's computer in order to update because doing that on the phone is not something I like doing. And seeing how the man is currently working from home, my access tot he computer is limited lol. Anyway, Updates might continue to be slow, but please do not fear. I'm still writing this story, just slower. Thank you to all who read and an extra shout out to my commenters. Comments feed the writer's soul, haha. Anywho, enjoy the chapter :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. All credit goes to the writer/creators of the show 

**...  
**

Evelyn gave Rosie eggs as she looked over at Sherlock who looked as though he was about to jump out of his skin. He held the peacock feather, clearly understanding that it was a clue. If he learned that that feather was a signature, Elijah's whole operation could come crashing down.

"Sherlock…"

"What!" He yelled, facing her. He sighed, shaking his head.

"I know you're worried, but panicking isn't going to help," Evelyn said as she put her hand on his arm, hoping to comfort him.

"Yes, you're right. I need to go." He grabbed the scarf she made him and put it on. "Mrs. Hudson said she can take Rosie if you have plans."

"I only have one thing to take care of. After that, it's all about finding John." She turned back to Rosie, her heart sinking. Was this child going to grow up without both her parents? She looked over when something brushed her hand. She looked down, and Sherlock had barely brushed his hand against hers.

"Please be careful. If this person is targeting me…You could be in danger."

Evelyn smiled some. "Have I become an important person?" she teased because she was feeling vulnerable.

"More then either of us wanted." With that, he left.

Evelyn's heart swelled with happiness and dread. She was in it now, and it scared the hell out of her because he'd become important to her too. Shit.

* * *

"What the hell are you doing!" Evelyn said, slamming her fist on Elijah's desk. She was juiced up on nerves and anger. "Why? I don't understand what's happening!"

"It's getting close to my big day, darling Ivy. I needed extra insurance. You did say this John Watson was important."

"No," Evelyn said shaking her head. "This was not part of the plan."

"You have no say what is and what isn't, Ivy. That's up to me." Elijah's tone grew slightly impatient.

"Sherlock hasn't been looking into theft cases. He's up to his eyeballs in murder. You didn't have to do this, and your dumb fuck of a son left his mark!"

Elijah sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. "Nasty habit the boy has, I know."

"What's going to happen to him?"

"I don't care what happens to him," Elijah said, standing. He went over to the wet bar, to pour himself a drink.

She felt the anger build and wanted to scream. Chances are he saw their faces. Not that it meant much. She was almost sure he had people on the inside. But if he didn't care what happened to John then chances are they were going to kill him. They were probably going to torture him because that's what they do.

Evelyn turned from Elijah, so he didn't see her suffering. All this because she gave him that kind of information. She hadn't expected this as an outcome. Jesus she was going to be sick. If Sherlock lost John, she wasn't sure he'd recover from that. That would be the end of Sherlock Holmes as they knew him.

What was she going to do? How could this be happening? An idea struck her, making her even sicker. She hated the idea, but it might work. It might save John and make it so he's safe while here. All it would cost was her soul. But if that saved John, then she had to do it.

"Shit," she whispered before speaking louder. "I have a deal to make."

Elijah looked at her, eyebrow lifted. "A deal?"

"John is not to be hurt while he is here, and once this is all over, you release him, and you or your men never bother him again."

"In return I get?" He asked, getting excited with anticipation.

Evelyn had to swallow the acid that seemed to burn her throat. "Me. I stay in your web forever. I do what you ask, no arguments."

The smile the spread across his face was pure evil. "And Oliver?"

"No. Oliver and Rachel go home, never to hear from you again. Besides, you'll have me. And you know how good I am."

"You strike this deal, and you never have a chance to be pardoned again, you sure this John is worth it?"

"If anything happens to John or Sherlock from here on out, this contract is broken. You hurt them in any way, I walk. Same goes for Oliver and Rachel."

Elijah laughed. "My darling Ivy, you've got yourself a deal."

They shook hands, and Eve felt as if he drained her life from her. It truly felt as though she gave her soul to the devil.

* * *

She looked in the room John was being kept in, at least it looked clean and had light. She'd been imagining him in some dark cave-like room, shackled to a wall or something along those lines. He had a few bruises and cuts, but that was it. He was truly okay. Thank god.

"How is it you can always get that man to bend!" Evan asked angrily, referring to Elijah.

"Because my requests are reasonable. Keep it in your pants, big guy. You're not hurting or killing John. Or you will have to answer to daddy." With that, she walked in, leaving a fuming Evan behind her."

"Evelyn!" John said shocked as he stood. "No, did they hurt you."

"No. John. I'm okay. Are you? Are you badly hurt?"

John shook his head. "I'm fine mostly. I'm confused."

Evelyn sank to the floor, waiting for John to do the same. Once he did she took his hand. "I'm fake, John. I'm not who I've led you to believe."

John's brows pulled together. "How do you mean?"

Evelyn took a deep breath, taking a moment to organize her thoughts. "I was born on the streets. My mom struggled to keep food in our bellies, and that eventually led her to take her own life. I was five I think. That's when he found me and my nightmare began."

She told him it all. Her horrifying story. The things she'd been forced to do. Getting pregnant and running away. And everything that was happening now. God, it felt so good to get that off her chest, and yet him knowing it all made her anxious. He hadn't said a word. He hadn't taken his hand from her either, but she wasn't sure if that was due to shock or not.

"Soo…You're…Jesus I really do attract the chaotic people."

"I'm so sorry, John. I never wanted to lie, and as we got closer it hurt to lie. I wish…But my son was in danger, and I couldn't…I will understand if you can't ever trust me again, but I've made a deal with Elijah, and you will walk away from this alive."

"What? What deal did you make?"

"That's my problem, not yours. All you have to do is try not to piss them off, okay? I will get you out of here just as soon as I can."

John was hurt. Why did he have to like crazy people? "This will hurt Sherlock."

"He's frantic. He wants to find you."

"Yes, but I meant you. Sherlock will hurt over this. I think that makes me angry the most. He's fallen for you, and you're a liar."

Evelyn's heart ached and felt joy. Sherlock was falling for her! After that moment of joy, it broke. "I will never forgive myself for what I've done." She stood now, feeling a bit closed in. "But it wasn't all a lie. I really have shown you guys more of the real me than I ever intended. Staying objective with you guys has been harder then it had ever been before. I tried to keep a distance, but…I feel…safe. You two made me feel wanted."

"I wanted you. Now all I feel is used. I don't know if I can forgive you."

She nodded. "I understand." She went to the door. "Soon I will be nothing but a memory, so that's okay. I'll come for you. Just sit tight."

* * *

That bitch always got what she wanted. Little slut! Evan thought as he stomped away from his father's office. He had tried to reason with his father, but the little slut had him wrapped around her little finger. Bitch.

It had been like this always. He favored the child that wasn't actually his, and she pretended to be a victim. Acting like she didn't like being used like the slut she was, but he knew better. She liked being used. He heard the noises she made when she was being a slut. He knows she liked it.

The bitch was going to get what was coming to her and soon. He had been pleased when she'd fled. Finally, his father was out of her spell, but then he had to go and bring her back. So now she was going to pay. She might have his father fooled, but he was no one's fool.

He slammed the heavy door to his room and looked at the pictures he had on his wall. So many of them were her. He had snapped many of them behind her back. With anger, he pulled out his cock and started fisting himself as he looked at the little slut. As he thought of all the things he would do to hurt her he worked himself up until he was cumming with a grunt. Yes, he was going to put an end to her. There was no stopping it now.

* * *

Sherlock couldn't find anything about a peacock feather, so that was a dead end. John struggled against his attacker. There was blood, and sherlock prayed all of it wasn't his.

He'd spent all day trying to find him, trying to make sense of this. Why would someone kidnap John? What would be the reasoning behind it? Was it something John did? Was it something he did? Anyone who knows him knew John is a soft spot. Maybe a case they worked on? Yes, he would have to look over them and see if anything jumps out.

Sherlock paused at the stairs that lead to his flat. It felt silly, the need to see Eve, but there it was. He went to her door, giving it a knock. Nothing. He tried again with the same results. It was locked, so he couldn't go in. She never locked it during the day when she was home, so she must be out. He'd expected her to be home, though.

Fear rose, but he refused to allow it to overtake him. She was a grown woman and she could take care of herself. She was strong too, and chances were she was looking for John. She had said she was going to look for him after her errand. He just assumed she would look for John with him.

He paced his flat, holding Rosie. Mrs. Hudson had informed him that Eve hadn't returned all day and her phone went to voice mail. Had she been taken too? If so, then clearly this was retaliation for something he'd done. God, what if something happened to her?

His eyes watered, making him stop the pacing. He was….wanting to cry? For a woman? Because he'd. This realization that he'd been purposefully ignoring hit him now, making it hard to breathe. He'd fallen for her. He'd only ever came close to this once before, and he refused to put a word to the feeling he felt then. But he…Loved her. He loved john too, and now they were both gone.

Sherlock wouldn't let the tears fall. No, he would have to keep this emotion in check as he did with all the other ones. Holding Rosie closer than she probably would have liked, he started pacing again. He would have to look through old cases. He would start with the ones he already thought might retaliate and go from there. Whoever did this was going to pay for taking those he loved.

Sherlock turned and paused. Eve stood in the doorway looking sick. He put Rosie down, and went to her, grabbing her upper arms. "Where the hell have you been!" He shouted. He wanted to shake her. "Do you have any idea how sick with worry I've been!"

"I'm sorry," Evelyn said, her tone dead.

"Eve?"

Evelyn took a deep breath. God, she felt sick. So sick she could die right here and be okay with it. She was shaken and scared. She'd spent the remainder of the day after leaving John thinking about what was happening. She had agreed to stay in Elijah's web, and she knew that he would make her stay.

Fear had made her sick a few times. What god awful things would he require from her? At first, she accepted her fate. John and Sherlock would both be safe, and that's all that mattered. She was the one who made the deal, she couldn't go freaking out over it. However, the more she thought about what it meant, the sicker she got. What was she going to do? She could run…No, that would only ensure that Sherlock and John would become targets. Oliver and Rachel too.

Rachel was going to be furious. So freaking furious. Maybe she wouldn't tell her. Perhaps it would be better for her to think she'd gone on a vacation and perished in the mountains or ocean. Thinking she was dead might be a kinder choice. She would never see Oliver grow up. She wouldn't know the man he turned out to be.

Jesus she really fucked it up this time. How could she go and get attached? This was why you needed to stay objective. When you get emotional you make dumb decisions without thinking shit through. She was going to suffer a fate worst than death, and while she would make the deal again, she was still scared.

As she sat, watching the sun fall, she realized she wanted someone to hug her. She was so afraid and so lost that she needed a kind hand. She needed warmth. She wanted someone to hold her as she cried and just make her feel safe and wanted for once in her life! She wanted kindness.

That's why she fell for them. John was so kind and warm. He was so different then the men she grew up knowing. His touch was gentle and made her feel good and safe. Sherlock was blunt and to the point. The sense of safety that provided her was priceless. She never had to wonder if he was lying because he wouldn't. She loved his honesty even if it was mean sometimes. And he was warm in his own way. His smile was always a welcoming one. His touch was warm as well, and his eyes. Those childlike eyes who have seen horrors of their own were always bursting with curiosity.

The duo simply knocked down her defenses and overtook her weapons. And they did it without her knowing. She loved them both. Sherlock especially. Just being in the same room with him made her feel safe. She always felt a little sleepy when she was curled up on their couch and they were there. Like a child who can finally sleep because they are with their parents. Home. With them, she was home.

"Eve?" Sherlock said, pulling her from her thoughts.

Eve looked at him now, her throat tight. She'd come here when she realized she had one chance of getting out of this with everyone happy. Sherlock was the smartest man she knew. She cleared her throat as she walked over to the chair John and Sherlock's clients usually sat in.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked.

"Sit," Evelyn said, pointing to his chair.

Sherlock put Rosie in her playpen and sat. He read her, and for the first time, he was sure he was seeing all of her. At this moment she was scared, but now he could see she was so much more. Liar, spy, rape victim, abused, cat lover, handy, smart, fragile, ashamed, are just some of the many things he could now see. It was like she flipped the switch, letting him in.

"My name is…Ivy and I need your help." She told him everything. She told him about her mom's suicide and how Elijah took her in. She told him about things she never told anyone about, even things she left out when talking to John. It all just came out. It was like he needed to hear her story because it was a plea. A plea for him to understand what had led up to this moment. She told him about Oliver and how he'd been used as a pawn to get her to spy on them.

Sherlock asked questions too. He asked about the piano that seemed to have displeased her and the weekend of Christmas when she came home hurt. Asked about the man who had slapped her. She answered honestly, even though she felt naked.

As she told him about Emmanuel, Sherlock's eyes seemed to darken with anger. She hesitated to continue but knew she needed to. Even if it made her feel exposed. She hated talking about her time with him. She'd been so dumb.

"Why are you telling me this now?" Sherlock asked after ten minutes of silence. He needed time to process all of this. He felt a rage he hadn't felt in a long time. The woman in front of him, who had been able to present herself as someone who was happy and who had led a happy life was hurting more then she'd ever let on. Yes, he knew that some of that happy was fake. He knew she was hiding something, but this? He knew why she was telling him this, but she needed to say it.

"The peacock feather is a mark. Evan leaves it behind when he does things. Murder, theft. Whatever. John is alive. He's been kicked around some, but I spoke with him and he's fine. He will stay fine. I made sure of that. I…"

Sherlock, who had been looking at Rosie, looked at Eve who was fighting emotion. "What did you do, Eve."

Evelyn took a deep breath. "I made a deal. My life for his."

Sherlock closed his eyes. Of course, she did. She values her own so little. If someone else could live and be happy, her own life was a small price to pay for that. His heart pounded and he couldn't stop himself from going to her, and pulling her into his arms. He's seen this happen. Read about it, but never had he ever thought he would want to or would need to hold someone.

"You stupid girl," he whispered.

"Don't," Evelyn said, trying to pull away. No. If he held her like this…

"Why? I think we both could use this," Sherlock replied as he let her go. She stepped away, hugging herself. The bruise on her face stood out so much more, and now that he knew what had happened that weekend, the mark made him even more upset. She looked so small suddenly as she struggled to keep from falling apart, and that's exactly what she was doing. Looking back, she'd been on the verge of breaking all along. Constantly chipping and having to use Elmer's glue to put herself back, knowing it was temporary.

"Because…Because if you show me this kindness, I will never be okay. I'll fall. I'll shatter…I…I…" her throat stopped her from speaking. God, she would break. She would never stop crying. She would fall into a million sharp pieces that would never fit back together.

"And I will hold you together." Sherlock hugged her again. He had to. He had to feel her against him. She shuttered in his arms and started sobbing. After a moment, her arms were gripping his shirt as she broke. His heart cried for her. Emotions overwhelmed him, making him itchy. Funny how he both never wanted to let her go and wanted to run away. These things are what he fought to keep out of his heart. Love was far too messy.

But she snuck in. She broke down that border and set up camp, slowly expanding. She was the first person he thought of in the morning and often the thing that kept him from going nuts when he couldn't sleep. He'd tried denying it. Say it was just because he knew she was hiding things. But now he knew, and it only deepened the feelings. This strong woman he had fallen for has no idea her own worth, but he would show it to her. He would make her see.

* * *

Eve couldn't believe it. Even hours later, she couldn't believe that Sherlock wasn't angry. She sat on the couch, Rosie curled up to her, and Sherlock playing his violin, and she marveled at his kindness. He told her not to worry about anything because he would figure out something to make sure she never had to go back to Elijah.

When she asked why he wasn't angry he told her he always knew. Not in detail of course, but he knew she wasn't what she seemed. Not completely.

She closed her eyes, letting the music soothe her. An hour ago she had shattered into millions of sharp pieces, but she was not broken. In fact, she felt more at peace at this moment then she'd ever felt. She was still scared. Still hurting and feeling sick at getting John and Sherlock into this mess. Her past still haunted her, and she was sure it always would. But she was no longer alone. Sherlock has reached out his hand, giving her something to ground herself on. This dark path was now lit by a light, and she would be forever grateful for that. For him.

….

**I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated. Thanks :D**


	10. Understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Warning that this chapter contains more graphic violence and rape then previous chapters. Most of this takes place in the first section. Viewer discretion is advised.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. All credit goes to the writer/creators of the show**

**…**

Sophia Heart had opened the door to a beautiful stranger. The man was tall, buff, and sexy. Not that he was handsome in a conversational way, but his body was made for sex, and her own body wept in response.

"Hello," she said bashfully, battering her eyelashes. He had said he wanted her to play hard to get, so she dolled herself up to look innocent, and practiced her pouty lip and playful giggle for when he starts to get handsy.

She stepped aside, allowing him to enter. She couldn't help but notice he looked upset. Perfect, when they come in all pent up, they often tip better because she was good at getting people to calm down.

She sauntered over to him, reaching up to rub his shoulders. "Why don't we sit? I could give you a massage. You look awfully tense." She kept her tone gentle and soft.

He did as she asked, sitting on the couch. She got on her knees behind him. "You want to tell me about it? I bet I can help whatever has upset you."

"You think so?" He replied, speaking for the first time. He reached behind him for her, moving her so that she was sitting on his lap. "There's this woman. The little slut does nothing but taunts and teases me. Who the hell does she think she is?"

"Awe. I'm sorry to hear that. What is it you want from her?" She asked. She was actually curious as to what his answer would be, though she could easily guess. Prostitutes were often substitutes for what men really desired.

He reached between her legs, cupping her. She responded with a giggle and wiggled away some. He did want her to play hard to get after all. "Hey now," she said, keeping the laughter in her tone.

"Why don't I get us something to drink?" She made sure to wiggle on his lap as much as she could before getting up.

He followed her to her kitchen, making her smile. She bent over, surely exposing herself to him as she did so. She turned and was a little thrown off by his expression.

"Does juice work? I'm a good girl so I don't have any alcohol." Actually, she never drank on the job. Not that she minded if they did. She just always wanted to have a clear head.

He went to her, his aggression having her heart leap. She didn't like the look in his eye. He grabbed her by the neck, throwing her against the wall and nearly knocking her unconscious.

"I'll show you what I want from her!" He said angrily as he probed her with his fingers.

She struggled to get away but no amount of struggle helped her. He was too strong and no one would hear her cries because of the soundproofing. Not to mention the struggling seemed to both anger and excite him more.

He moved her, throwing her face down on the ground, again knocking her head. Her eyes blurred and she knew her struggling was in vain as he thrust inside her, causing her to cry out in pain.

She went lax, hoping he would have his way and leave. How wrong she was.

* * *

There is an amazing amount of theft in London. Not that Sherlock didn't know this, but he often avoided theft cases because they were boring. However, looking to connect them was engaging enough.

It had been two days now since Eve had come clean about everything and John was "missing." He believed Eve when she said John was safe. Apparently, the man who abused her was at least a man of his word.

So they went on as if nothing had changed. If Elijah thought even for a moment that Eve had told him the truth, that could have dire consequences. Neither of them wanted that.

He shifted as he read the report. There were three cases so far that might be connected, but it was still to soon to know. He was waiting for a pattern to emerge.

He was also trying to find a solution to Eve's problem, but he kept coming back to one solution, and he wasn't sure how Eve would feel about that outcome. But sometimes, the only way to stop someone is to put them down.

He hated the man enough to feel as though death was something he could bring to him. Not only did he take John, which in his mind reason enough to kill, but he'd hurt Eve over and over again. Used her and put her through unimaginable abuse.

He turned when she came in with lunch. She had Rosie, who helped by holding a bottle of water. "Hey, figured lunch was in order."

"Yes. Thank you." Sherlock accepted the sandwich she offered. Things had also been a little off between them, but he imagined it's just the stress. And maybe the fact that they shared an intimate moment a couple days ago and both were trying to figure out how to act normal again.

So he took her hand, causing her to face him with slightly reddened cheeks. "You okay?" He asked, squeezing her hand gently. This is what people did, right?

"I'm hanging in there." She smiled at him, returning the squeeze. "You?"

Feeling out of place, he thought to himself. This was uncharted territory for him. He couldn't help but feel when she was around. No matter how hard he tried to bottle the emotions. "I'm good."

They ate as Sherlock told her about the theft cases he thought might be connected. He paused mid-sentence when his phone beeped.

"Another prostitute has been murdered." He stood. "I'm sorry, but I must go."

"It's okay. I understand."

He smiled, patting her head as he walked by. He wanted to touch her and that seemed the least invasive way to do so.

* * *

Sophia heart lay on her bed, same as the other three victims before her. She had three bullet wounds, just like the others. What was different? She was abused first.

The other three had been clean. He went in, had sex, and shot them. This one wasn't. She was bruised and there were signs of struggle. She fought for her life.

"No one heard anything?"

Lestrade shook his head. "This place is high class. State of the art soundproofing."

That was believable. This place was for the rich, and the victim came from a high-class family. When this hit the media, it was going to spread like wildfire.

Women like Veronica, Iris, and Joyce didn't much matter. Sure, they got some press, and once the word serial killer started spreading they got even more press. But Sophia Heart? A politician's daughter?

He did his walkthrough, hoping that due to the struggle the killer would slip, but outside of understanding that the killer was devolving, he was still very careful. Looked like he wiped down anything he touched.

He's angry now, though. Something has pissed him off. Or perhaps, the person that these women represent pissed him off. That seemed likely.

"His next target might be the person he really wants to kill. These women were likely surrogates, but given what's happens here? I doubt he can hold off long enough to kill one more before going for his final kill. He wants her. He needs her."

"But who is she?"

"I don't know. I can't get a read on this. None of these women have anything in common with the other. I just…" he would have to find something. Anything to push him in the right direction. What was he missing!

"I haven't a damn clue, but I will. I will stop him."

* * *

Sherlock looked at the wall with the woman's pictures and location. He'd put up key things about the woman, trying to find anything to connect them, but as before, it made no sense.

How the hell did he find them? What was the connection? They didn't even hang out in the same parts of town, let alone share friends. But then how did the killer find them?

He leaned back on the table, looking down when his hand bumped a book. It was the book that Eve had been reading. This copy was well used, though he recalled her saying she'd loved the series so this shouldn't be a surprised.

To give his mind a break, he picked it up, opened to the marked page, and started reading. three minutes later he'd decided he didn't see the appeal, though most books were…Wait, holy shit, he thought as he flipped to the beginning of the book, and after another few minutes, he was sure.

Eve was the connection. The murders described in this book match. From the prostitutes to the kill method! But what did that have to do with Eve? This couldn't be a coincidence. No way it was.

First things first, he needed to call Eve and get her home. Panic spread through him when her phone went to voicemail. Please for the love of God let her be okay.

* * *

Eve woke, blinking her blurry eyes as she looked around the room. Her head ached on the side, and she wondered if she had a concussion, because she was confused.

She tried to remember the last thing she'd been doing before waking up tied to a chair, but the last thing she remembered was taking Rosie to the sitters. But she couldn't remember what happened to land her here.

The chair she was tied to sat in the middle of a room. A hotel room if she had to guess. A really nice hotel room at that. The room was white and gold themed. The bottom half of the walls was what looked like white marble and the top half was textured white wallpaper with the textured part being gold.

The bedding continued this theme. The comforter was white with gold flowers and pretty swirl like things and the sheets and pillows were layered white and gold.

Hell, everything in the room was some shade of those two colors to the point of ridiculousness. At least in her opinion. In the corner, there was a hot tub and down the hall, she was sure there was more room than she could see from where she sat. There was also a couch behind her, but she could only see part of it.

As her mind started to wake up, she realized that where she was, was a small matter compared to why she was here. Elijah popped into her head, she quickly decided that he wouldn't do this. Not because he wouldn't want to hurt her, but because he could just call her name and know she'd come running, so why go through all this?

Down the hall, a door opened, and she listened as heavy footsteps came towards her. She struggled, trying to loosen the bonds that held her. She stopped, not wanting to be caught trying to escape.

"Oh look. The whore is awake." Evan smiled evilly, as her blood ran cold.

"What are you doing?" She sneered. She didn't want him to know she was afraid. She was mad at herself that she hadn't even considered him.

He went over to her, slapping her across the face. The force was enough to make her eyes blur again for a moment. "I'm having fun," he replied.

She was confused. "Why?" She couldn't keep the fear completely out of her tone this time. Not when her heart froze with the fear.

"Why?" He shouted as he pulled her hair, forcing her to look at him. He got in her face as he continued. "Because I'm going to give the little slut what she deserves." He laughed before licking the tear off her cheek.

"Look at you, he said, straightening. Crying. That's your go-to, isn't it? You strut around like the bitch slut you are, and when something doesn't go your way, you cry to daddy."

He drew close to her face again. "Tell me, how do you bend his will? Do you put those pretty lips around his cock and blow him?"

She felt sick, nausea making her stomach clench and roll. "I have never," she replied, though she didn't think that was going to matter. Clearly, he'd made up his mind about her.

He threw his head back and laughed. "Of course you'd deny it. Why wouldn't you? You're nothing but a slut and a liar."

"What do you want?" she was too tired to play games. She just wanted him to do what he intended, so they could both move on. This wasn't the first time Evan had gotten a little rough with her. Though this was the worst.

"What do I want?" He shook his head as if he were angry. "I want to expose you. I want to use you for the whore that you are and show father what a little slut he raised."

She shook her head. God, it was groggy. She couldn't understand what he was getting at. "I don't understand."

"He's given you everything and you treat him like a monster!"

"He is! And so are you!" She gasped as that remark earned her another slap.

"That's what you want people to believe but you know it's not true. I've heard you. Those nights you complain about when you have to take men to bed. When you have to pretend to be a whore for information or what have you." He adjusted his pants, drawing attention to his expanding cock. "I've heard the erotic whimpers as they fucked you. I know you enjoyed that you little whore."

"You're sick if you think I enjoyed that. Being forced to use yourself to gain information isn't something I've ever wanted to do. Jesus, what is wrong with you?" She was going to die. Somehow she knew that killing her was end game for him. At the very least he was going to rape her and even that was enough to make her skin clammy.

"You just want people to think you're innocent. That's the liar in you. You play on their emotions to get anything you want. Well, that won't work on me. I know you for the lying bitch you are."

"So What? You're going to kill me?"

"Like a whore," he replied with a big grin.

For some reason that phrase made her think of Sherlock's prostitute case. She'd never really asked questions about it, and the few times she did the guys never gave her many details. At least not that she could recall. "Are you the one who's been killing prostitutes?"

"Oh yes. That's me. I got the idea from that stupid cop book you like so much. Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't put it together sooner. Dumb slut. I guess it proves you're not as good as daddy thinks you are."

She thought about the book, seeing the murder scenes in it play through her mind. He was going to rape her, then kill her. She was going to die.

"What will killing me prove?"

"Oh Ivy, don't worry. I'm not ready to kill you." He walked behind her as he spoke. She felt him lean down and put his nose to her neck. He breathed her in, making her want to scream. "I'm going to have my way with you first. Over and over to prove you're a whore and once I get bored, I'll kill you."

"Don't touch me," she said, jerking her head away. She couldn't stand the idea of his hands on her.

Evan grabbed her hair again, pulling her head back. "I'll do whatever I want," he said, as he stuck his hand down her shirt and pulled painfully at her nipple. He nearly orgasmed at her gasp of pain. "Oh yes," he moaned. "We are going to have lots of fun."

Evan's phone chimed, breaking the moment. With a growl, he answered it, and turned away, whispering with aggravation.

Eve took the moment to think. She looked around, spotting her phone. It and her sweater were sitting on an end table. She fiddled with the rope on her wrists and thanked her lucky stars that he wasn't great at tying people up.

It wasn't an easy thing to do, but with his back turned, she could work on it better. Once one hand was free, she quickly undid the rest of her ties.

She made sure that she would still look tired up if he were to look over this shoulder. being out of her ties meant very little. he was twice as strong as she was.

The conversation grew more heated until he left the room. Yes! She jumped up and ran to her phone. Looking out the window, she saw a Pig'n a poke sign, and next to it was Jackie's.

She sent those two names to Sherlock, before putting the phone in her pocket. She quickly learned that the window didn't open. Shit. Also, judging by what she could see outside, this wasn't a real hotel. Jesus, the lengths he went to.

Okay, she thought as she sat back in the chair. She put her already aching arms back behind the chair. She wasn't going to be able to leave with him out there, but once he was in here, she could try to getaway.

He came back a bit later looking pissed. He always got all red and sweaty when angry. "What has you all hot and bothered?" She asked.

"None of your business!" He snapped. He walked over to her. "Now, where were we?"

She waited until his face was right in front of hers before head butting him right in the nose with her head. He stumbled back, clearly surprised.

"You bitch!" He yelled as she stood, and hit him with the chair before fleeing.

* * *

Sherlock looked down at his phone. His heart leapt with joy when he saw it was a text from Eve. Pig'n a poke and Jackie's.

He ran a mental map of London through his head, stopping when he saw that a Pig'n a poke was right next to a Jackie's on Strickland St.

He wasted no time hailing a cab and giving him the address. He thought about contacting Lestrade but decided against it after running possible outcomes through his head.

He wasn't sure who the prostitute killer was, nor did he understand what any of that had to do with Eve, but he would stop him.

He was abruptly brought out of his thoughts when the cabby slammed the breaks about ten minutes later.

"Bloody hell!" He yelled. "What on earth?"

Sherlock leapt from the cab, not hearing whatever the cabby had said after that. He ran to her, his heart in his throat. She was bloody, shaking, and sported torn clothes.

"Eve!" He said as he put his coat around her. She looked at him with blank eyes. She was in shock. "Don't worry?" He said as he led her to the cab. "I've got you now. Your safe."

…

**I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated. Thanks :D**


	11. To take a life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapter contains violence.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. All credit goes to the writer/creators of the show**

….

Eve sipped the Coffee as Sherlock cleaned the cut above her eye. She winced some, earning an apology from him. "It's alright." She said, trying to smile, but her cracked lip made that difficult. He was being incredibly kind.

"You were reckless," Sherlock said, placing the bandage over the cut. "You should have kept him busy until I arrived." He tried to keep his tone steady and uncaring, but even he could hear the worry behind the façade

"You wanted to rescue a damsel in distress?" She laughed a little at his expression.

"You could have died!" He snapped, losing the control he tried to keep.

She put her hand on his cheek, nearly being rendered speechless when his eyes met her with such fierceness. "I know. I'm sorry I guess I'm still a little out of it. But keeping him busy wasn't an option. Besides, as I was escaping I learned what Elijah wants to steal."

"What's that?"

"The queen's jewels, apparently. Not very original if you ask me."

"Eve, why did Evan do this?"

She shrugged. "I haven't a clue. I guess he really does hate me."

Sherlock sat as he shook his head. "Or really loves you in his own sick way. He went through a lot of work to set this up. For it to mirror that book."

She felt sick at that statement. "God I hope not. I can't see how that would be. We've never seen eye to eye and spent our childhood fighting."

"Sometimes love can grow from hate. Especially a sick kind of love."

She felt sick at the idea that Evan loved her. It was such a toxic idea and well, she'd always saw him as a fucked up brother. "Well, regardless of his reasons, Elijah will be unhappy to hear about what his son had been up too."

"Are you crazy?" Sherlock asked as he stood. "You were just attacked and now you want to go confront Elijah?"

"Sherlock, he won't…"

She stopped because he'd pulled her to him, holding her. "Please. I can't. I don't know how to do this. To stop these feelings. Please, you're making me sick."

She laughed lightly. "I hope you mean I'm worrying you."

"Why go to him?"

She took his face in her hands, "I promise you. Elijah won't hurt me. But I'm going to make Evan wish he'd never laid a hand in me. Besides. We still need to keep up appearances. "

* * *

Once she felt steady and back in control of her frayed emotions, she showered and talked herself up. She had what it took to look Elijah in the eyes and accuse his son of trying to rape and kill her. Once she felt like she was Ivy again, she bid a worried Sherlock goodbye and headed to Elijah.

She strode in, fury in her eyes and fear in her heart. She'd surprised him when she slapped her hand on his desk. "Look at me!" She demanded. When he did, she knew his quick eye took in the cuts and bruises on her face.

"Darling, what happened to your face?"

"Your son!" she replied bitterly. "He left other marks too, but I'd have to strip down to show you."

Elijah smirked, sitting back in his chair. This was no surprise to her. Elijah believed women were meant to be used. Evan abusing and raping her wouldn't even make him blink an eye.

"What did you do to upset him?"

"I don't know. You'll have to ask him." She put the folder she held on his desk. She waited as he opened it, looking through it. "That's four women. Raped, murdered. You want to know who's behind them? You get three guesses and the first two don't count."

"Really? What makes you sure?"

"Because, while I was tied to a chair, he confessed to these murders, and made it clear that I would meet the same end. He was going to kill me." She was glad that she sounded furious instead of sounding uneasy, which is how she felt as she recalled her time with Evan.

Elijah's jaw clenched. "And I should believe this why?"

It took a lot more courage then she thought it would to lean over his desk and put her face close to his. "Why would I lie?" she bit out.

He sucked in the side of his cheek a moment before speaking. "You swear this to me? You swear he planned to kill you?"

"On my son's life."

He sighed deeply as he stood. He grabbed her arm way too rough as he pulled her from his office. She said nothing as he dragged her through the compound they call a house, to Evan's room. Elijah's fist hit the door with a bang.

Moments later a pissed Evan poked his head out. Eve was happy to see that the bastard's nose was swollen. Fucker. She gasped some as she was shoved into his room, Elijah following her.

"What the hell is this?" Evan barked.

Elijah pulled a gun from his suit jacket, fury in his eyes. He pointed the gun at Evelyn first. "On your knees!"

Without argument, she dropped. She hated how her stomach clenched in response to the fear.

He turned the gun on Evan. "Now you!"

"Are you mad?"

"I. Said. Down!"

Even Evan couldn't challenge that tone. He slowly got to his knees. Elijah quickly tied both their arms behind their backs. While he did so, Evelyn couldn't help but realize that both were too afraid of him to stop him from doing this. Together, they could have taken him. She was sure of that, yet neither of them did.

She was also sure this was just for show. Elijah had a tendency to make dramatic shows out of everything. Maybe that was part of the reason neither of them did anything. While she was scared, Elijah always scared her, she wasn't afraid for her life.

"What now?"

"You're sister has come to me with the craziest story. That you tied her up and intended to kill her. Tell me, boy, is that the truth?

"Course not!"

Elijah pointed the gun at Evelyn. "So did you lie?"

"No Sir. I swear it." She was proud that her voice was steady even as her heart hammered painfully in her chest.

The gun went back to Evan. "You lying to me?"

"No! Why would I lie? It's the whore who's lying."

"How about I cut off your dick?" Elijah grabbed one of Evan's knives off the wall and walked closer to his son. He grabbed Evan by the throat, putting the knife to his dick. "How about now? You stand by your story? Think carefully. You suck at lying. I always know."

Evan's nostrils flared. "Yeah, I was going to kill her, but the crazy bitch got away. She's a whore who has you wrapped around her finger!"

"So," Elijah straightened. "You were going to not only kill my daughter, who I treasure, but you were also going to kill one of the greatest assets I have?"

"She's grown soft father. She no longer is the woman she'd once been. I am of greater use to you!"

"You, my son are replaceable." Elijah turned toward them now, shooting Evan right between the eyes.

Evelyn jerked at the sound, tears filling her eyes. She didn't weep for Evan, but if he could easily kill his own flesh and blood…Her eyes traveled from Evan's fallen body to Elijah. What was he going to do to her? She knew him to be many things, but she never thought he would kill his kids.

"Now. Let this be a lesson. No one and I mean, no one! takes what's mine." he walked behind her, using the knife to cut the ties. He put his cheek against hers. "Do you understand? If you try to take what's mine, I will take your life."

She nodded, speechless.

"What was that?"

"Yes sir."

"Good girl. Now go home and do your job. You will be returning home soon enough."

Sick to her stomach, she stood, unable to hide the fact that she shook, and hurried to the door. She was too afraid to look back at the scene she'd left behind her. He didn't even blink an eye. He killed his son without any hesitation. Jesus. He was truly the devil himself.

* * *

She shook as she told Sherlock what had happened. She'd thought at most Evan would be beaten, never did she know this would be an outcome. "He won't let me go. As long as he lives, he will hunt me down and hurt anyone he wants to until I surrender. I have no choice. I have to stay with him."

Sherlock looked out his window, fury in his heart, and a small smile playing at his lips. He cared for very few people. He didn't let people in easily, and when he cared for someone, it was uncomfortably deep. This Elijah might be used to winning, but so was he.

"We will just have to kill him," He said as if he'd made a comment about the weather.

Evelyn looked at him when he spoke those cold words. He'd meant them. She didn't have to ask to be sure. She felt many emotions run through her. Fear. Doubt. Pain. Unease. Did his evilness justify his murder? And if they did kill him, how would they not end up in jail? Would those in his web retaliate? Was there any other choice?

"How?"

Sherlock smirked. "Don't worry. I have it all figured out."

* * *

She wasn't a murderer. As she stood there, waiting for Mrs. Hudson to take Rosie, she felt sick with unease. "Wait," she said, taking Rosie back from Mrs. Hudson. She hugged her close for a moment. "We'll bring your daddy home to you," she told her, though Rosie wouldn't understand.

She'd spent the night trying to think up another way. A way that made it so they didn't have to kill Elijah, but every scenario she played in her head either ended up with him dead or her.

Sherlock on the other hand seemed perfectly at ease with what was to come. She'd even asked him about the fact that this plan could put John at risk, but apparently, Sherlock was sure of the outcome. He said he'd done all the calculations and he knew what to do for it to end in their favor.

He'd already made the call to Elijah an hour ago. They were to meet in an underpass near a bakery Evelyn didn't remember the name to. He told Elijah he'd known all his plans, and if he didn't agree to give Sherlock some of the money he made off his load in advance, then he'd kill Evelyn and tell the police everything. They agreed on three million, and they would meet at the underpass by four.

"We have to be convincing," Sherlock said as they drove close to the meetup. "I will have you tied and lightly gagged. Don't worry, you'll be able to get out of both with ease should the occasion arises."

"What if he doesn't show alone?"

"He will. He's cocky. Just based on what you've told me I can tell that much. He's fuming that I'm aware of his plans. He won't tell anyone else. Perhaps he might have brought Evan, but seeing how that is no longer an option." Besides, if he didn't show alone, he made a backup plan.

"Sherlock," she said his name because she was scared. Where he was so sure and calm, she was a mess and felt like she might jump from her skin. She closed her eyes when he cupped her cheek seconds before placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Don't worry. The world will be a better place without him."

She couldn't argue that point. She believed it would be a better place without him. However, she was still unsure of this plan. She wasn't just risking their lives. She was risking the lives of Oliver and Rachel too. If this plan backfired, how far would Elijah's anger go?

* * *

She played her part as Sherlock manhandled her. She even started fake crying as they approached Elijah, and to her surprise, John. Her heart thundered in her chest when she understood Elijah's plan. He would try to trade John for her, and once the trade was done, Elijah would kill them both. Possibly her for allowing his secret to be outed.

She glanced over at Sherlock, but he didn't seem at all surprised. In fact, he looked like he'd been expecting this.

"Elijah I presume?" Sherlock said, his tone cocky and sure.

"The famous Sherlock Holmes." His eyes drifted to Evelyn. "Dearest Ivy. How did he find you out?"

"I've known from the beginning. Something wasn't quite right about the quit new neighbor. Took me some time to put all the pieces together, but here we are."

"Well. I've come with a counter offer. You give me my daughter, and you can have your boyfriend back."

"He's not my boyfriend," John mumbled, clearly the fact that his life was in danger didn't stop him from wanting to make that clarification. Evelyn might have found it funny under different circumstances.

In this case, however, she couldn't help but wonder if those words ever hurt Sherlock's feelings. John's feelings might just be friendly, but Sherlock's feelings were always a bit more than that. Even if he didn't know.

Sherlock smiled. "I see. You're behind John's disappearance." he looked John over. He was a bit bruised and looked like he hadn't slept since he'd been taken, but otherwise, he seemed okay. That was a relief.

"Do we have a deal, Mr. Holmes? I'm a busy man."

"Sure. Give me John, and I'll give you Eve."

"Eve?" Elijah smirked. "Oh, Vary well." He shoved John in their direction. "Now, Ivy?"

Sherlock let her go, and as they planned, she ran over to Elijah, acting scared. This is where Sherlock miscalculated. Four men popped up out of the shadows, surrounding Sherlock and John.

"We made arrangements to meet alone," Sherlock said calmly. He looked at Eve who paled.

He made quick work untying Evelyn. "I'm an honest man, Mr. Holmes. I promised to come here alone. These men arrived after me." with that, he pulled Evelyn away. "Kill them."

"No!" she shouted, moving to help them, but Elijah had a good grip on her arm and was pulling her away. "Please. Please don't kill them!"

"Stop fighting me, Girl! You're lucky I don't kill you now!"

She didn't stop fighting. Even when she could no longer see what was happening behind them. She was fighting nausea as she spoke. "Get your hands off me!" She fought him off her but only got a few steps before he was knocking her down.

He had her down as was straddling her. She cried out some when he punched her face, the contact feeling as though he broke her cheek. "You ungrateful bitch! Were you working with him? Hmm? What have you done?"

She fought, punching him back any time she managed to get her wrist free. She shifted, managing to get his balls just hard enough to make him lose focus. She shifted, put her elbow to his nose with as much force as she could. Unfortunately, he too was quick and she got his cheek instead. Still, this got her out from underneath him.

"I took you off the streets!" he yelled as they fought. "Gave you clean clothes and a warm bed!"

"Yeah! And then you pimped me out and treated me like a piece of property for years after!" she blocked is right hand only to be hit with his left. His leg kicked out, knocking her to the ground. She looked up at him, blood in her eyes and a gun in her face. "Do it! Because I would rather die than be under you again!

Her adrenaline had her fearless. She looked him in the eyes as the gun was just inches from her. She hoped Sherlock and John were somehow okay. Prayed that he would spare Rachel and Oliver. He wouldn't. She knew that and that thought gave her one last boost. She hit the gun from his hands, before thrusting up and into him. He tripped on something, causing them both to go down.

She turned, gasping for breath as she went for the gun. He followed, but she was slighting faster. She had the gun and turned it on him. He was on his knees, bloody and smiling like a mad man. She had the upper hand now.

He laughed as he looked up at her. "I trained you well, Ivy. You're strong. Not easily defeated. Go ahead. Pull the trigger."

She wanted too. At that moment there was nothing she wanted more. He was here, on his knees, and she could end it. All of it. She could put an end to her misery and likely that of others. Why? Why did she hesitate?

"I hate you. I hate the person you made me be. I hate everything you represent." she was crying now as she shook. Why? Why can't she do this?

"You should have pulled the trigger," Elijah said as he pulled another gun from his coat. He had it turned on her so fast she hardly saw it happen.

She yelped at the sudden sound of gunfire, and jerked back, falling on her ass as Elijah fell to the ground. She watched as blood seeped from his head where he was shot. Her eyes trailed up to Sherlock who looked a little frazzled, and would likely have a black eye but was otherwise fine.

"Eve," he said, putting the gun aside as he ran to her. "Are you okay? Were you shot?" he touched her face, her arm, her leg, searching for signs of horrific injury. "Eve." he took her face in his hands, making her look him in the eyes. "It's over. You're safe."

"She's in shock," John said, kneeling beside them. "Hold her steady now, she's going too…Faint."

Sherlock shifted, lifting her into his arms. He felt foolish as fear pumped through his veins. She was likely fine, but he would feel a hell of a lot better once she was properly examined.

"John, are you okay?" Sherlock asked as they made their way out of the overpass.

"I'm sore, tired, pissed, and want to see my daughter, but I'm fine."

Sherlock smiled. He had his best friend and Eve. Both of whom would be safe. Later, Lestrade would as if he regretted shooting Elijah. He'd tell Lestrade that he did what had to be done. However, he was glad he'd shot the man. The monster who hurt his Eve deserved nothing less.

….

**I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated. Thanks :D**


	12. Emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read this fic. Sadly and happily, this is the last chapter and as always, it's bitter sweet. I want to throw out a special shout out to all who have left comments, they feed the author lol. I hope this fanfic was as fun to read as it was to write. Enjoy the last chapter of The Sins Of Eve. :D

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. All credit goes to the writer/creators of the show**

**….**

**Chapter Twelve: Emotions**

….

Evelyn woke in the cab, a little confused as to how she got there She was groggy but otherwise fine. "Where are we going?"

"Home," Sherlock replied sounding…off.

She sat up and smiled at John who she apparently used as a pillow. "How are you? Did they hurt you at all?"

He smiled. "Don't worry. I'm okay." His tone said he was a bit stressed, but she supposed that was to be expected.

They got home soon after, and Evelyn was having a hard time pin-pointing what she was feeling. Relief was one of them for sure. Sorrow? Yes, she was glad Elijah was gone and could no longer hurt her or those she loved, but she was ashamed to admit there was a part of her, ever so small, that was sad.

"What about Rachal and Oliver?"

"They should be contacting us soon on where to pick them up. Don't worry, they will be okay." Sherlock replied. He wanted to go to her, to hold her in his arms, but he kept his distance. She would likely be going back to Connecticut with Oliver and Rachal. He didn't want to make the goodbye harder than it had to be.

She sighed, shaking her head. "This feels so unreal. I can't even put into words what I'm feeling."

"You don't have too. You've been through a lot. " John gave her a smile. "It will all sink in. Just give it time."

She returned the smile. "Yeah, Okay. You're right." She sat trying to settle. He was gone. Those words kept playing over and over in her mind. He was gone.

A few hours later Eve received a call about where to pick up Rachal and Oliver. After telling Sherlock John she raced downstairs and hailed a cab. They were less than five minutes away, and probably really confused. She bounced in her seat with nerves.

"You okay little lady?" the cabby asked.

She gave him a smile. "Just excited to see a friend," she replied. Once at the spot, she could see Rachal and Oliver sitting on a bench in front of the building. The street light above lit up the area where they sat and even from here Evelyn could see Rachal's worried expression.

"Please wait? We are just picking them up and going back to my original location." with that she leaped from the car and ran for them.

"Rachal! Oliver!" she called. She hugged a surprised Rachal before lifting Oliver into her arms. She couldn't help but cry. "It's over." was all she would say in front of Oliver, but the expression on Rachal's face told her she understood. Mostly.

"Evelyn, does that mean we get to go home?" Oliver asked.

"Yes. That means we get to go back home real soon. Until then, you guys will come stay where I've been staying."

"Yay! Sleepover!" Oliver replied excitedly before hugging Evelyn again. "I've missed you."

"And I you," Evelyn replied, holding him close.

* * *

"Sherlock can come off a bit rude, but I promise you if you can get past his bluntness, you will like him," Evelyn said as they got out of the cab.

"It's important to you that I like him, isn't it?" Rachal asked as Evelyn paid the cabby.

Evelyn looked at Rachal and Oliver. What was she going to do? Sherlock had become important to her. She was falling for him. But long-distance relationships do not work, and there was no way she could ask him to leave London. But she couldn't just not go home either.

"Maybe," she replied, taking Oliver's hand. "Come on," she said leading them in. She talked Oliver up the stairs and smiled at Sherlock and John when they got in.

"Rachel, this is John."

"Hello," John said, taking her hand and giving her a smile. "Nice to meet you."

"And Sherlock."

Sherlock eyed Rachal a moment. "Yes, hello."

"Sherlock and John, this is Oliver. Rachal's son."

Oliver stepped forward, holding out his hand. "I'm blind if you could give me your hands? I would like to shake them."

"Yes, right," John said, getting down to Oliver's height and took his offered hand. "I'm John, it's very nice to meet you."

"May I see you?" Oliver asked.

"Um, okay?" John asked a little unsure of what he meant.

Oliver made a few clicking noises as he moved forward. When his hands found John's face he carefully moved his fingers over it while clicking. After a minute he stepped back and smiled. "It's nice to meet you too."

"What's the other guy's name?" Oliver asked. It was an odd name that he couldn't remember.

"Sherlock," Sherlock replied for her. He followed John's lead and took the boy's hand.

"Your name is funny," Oliver chuckled. "May I see you?"

"Yes," Sherlock replied.

Oliver did to Sherlock what he did to John, though he took more time with Sherlock. "It's nice to meet you," he said with a smile.

"Likewise," Sherlock replied. Though the boy was blind, Sherlock felt like the boy saw more than most. He couldn't say why he felt that, but he did.

Evelyn and Rachel hugged as Oliver made his way back to them. "I'm so happy everything is okay," Rachel said as she cried a little.

"Me too." Evelyn wiped the tear off her face. "I'm going to take them to my flat. We are all really tired." She looked at Sherlock and wished she could read him. They'd been getting close she thought, but now she felt like there was a barrier between them once more.

"Sleep well." Sherlock gave an unconvincing smile, but Evelyn nodded and the three of them left.

"What's wrong?" John asked. Sherlock had stood in that exact spot for thirty minutes now. "Sherlock?"

"I…I've fallen in love." those were incredibly hard to get out.

John smiled. "And you're terrified." It wasn't a question. Most men were afraid of falling in love. However brief the fear was.

"I'm incredibly sad."

John's brow furrowed. For one, Sherlock wasn't usually so open, and even less so when it came to emotions. For another, he couldn't imagine why this would sadden him. "Why?"

"Because I love her, and I have to let her go."

John understood now. Evelyn had family in Connecticut. There was a chance that she'd want to go back with them. "Ask her to stay."

"Don't be foolish, John. I can do no such thing."

"Why not? You love her…"

"It's because I love her that I can't ask anything of her. Don't you realize? She just got her life back. For once, all her choices are her own. I will not ask her to stay. I want her to make her own choices. I want her to be free."

This…was so odd. He'd known Sherlock for a long time and this was a side of the man he'd never witnessed. Never would he have put sherlock and tender in the same sentence. Until now. He said nothing more. Sherlock made a good point. Besides, the man wouldn't change his mind no matter how he argued.

* * *

Evelyn stood in her empty flat feeling nostalgic. Or at least that was the closest word she could get to what she was feeling. Two weeks flew by, and tomorrow she would be going home with Rachel and Oliver. She was glad to be going home, happy that all was going to go back to normal. Really, she was.

She looked up when she heard them walking around. She would have to say goodbye. The flight was early, so she decided they should stay at a hotel close to the airport. This way they could get a little more sleep before leaving. Not that she would sleep much.

With a heavy heart, she took one last look at her flat before walking out the door. She made her way up, unsure of how to say goodbye to them. She knew all along she'd be going home, but it never really seemed like a true possibility. She figured she'd either end up in Elijah's web or dead.

"I'll be off soon," she informed them as she walked into their open door. She smiled at them, though she wasn't entirely happy. She stole a glance as Sherlock who looked as uncaring as he'd been looking since this whole thing was over. She didn't understand the cold shoulder he was giving her.

"Glad to be going home?" John asked as he stood, Rosie in his arms. She reached out for Evelyn, and John happily surrendered her to her. "You'll be missed."

Evelyn held her close, her eyes watering some. "I will miss you dearly," she said to Rosie as her heart ached. She wasn't as ready to say goodbye to them as she'd hoped she'd be. She laughed as she looked at John's uneasy expression. "I'll be okay." She moved to him, hugging his as well as she could while holding Rosie. "You be good to her. Remember, you're an important part of how she will turn out."

"Yes." Yeah, he didn't want to say goodbye to her. While it was made clear that her affections toward him were only platonic, he was still going to miss her like crazy. She'd brought happiness to their lives. "Well, I really hate goodbyes, so." John took Rosie after Evelyn hugged her close once more. "I hope we'll see you again." With that, he was gone. He knew Sherlock needed privacy to say whatever goodbye he planned on saying.

Evelyn felt awkward as she stood there, unsure of what to say. Sherlock hardly looked her way since she arrived. "This all seems a little crazy. Going home. Being free to be me. Whoever that is. I've gone by so many names, I'm not even sure who I am anymore."

He stood suddenly, going to her, but not touching her. his eyes burned with emotion. "You are Eve." he reached out now, gently touching her cheek with the back of his finger for just a moment. "You're courageous. Beautiful. Amazing. You are kind, though you've known little kindness. I think you know who you are, Eve. I've always seen the real you."

She moved quickly, hugging him and burying her face in his shirt. "I'm so grateful for everything you've done." And for all the things he's made her feel, though she wasn't going to say that out loud.

Though a little hesitant, he held her back, breathing her in. He said nothing in return. This was all foreign to him. It was as if something inside him had shifted, changed.

She pulled away after a moment, trying her best to smile. "Thank you. For everything with Elijah, and being…You." She chucked a little bit. "Meeting someone like you was probably the best thing that's happened to me, so, thank you."

"I'm not sure anyone has ever been thankful to meet me," Sherlock replied bewildered.

"Well, I'm sure John feels the same way. Even if he won't admit it." She stepped closer, reached up on her toes, and kissed his cheek. She wanted to do more, but that would have to do. "I'll see you," she said before hurrying out the door.

She felt like a child as her heart thundered and her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. She was sad that she left so quickly, but it was what it was. She said her goodbyes, and now she could leave.

* * *

John went downstairs to find Sherlock looking distressed. "Sherlock? What the bloody hell are you doing?" The man was currently throwing darts at the wall. Not that it's the worst thing to ever happen to it. Somewhere behind the array of papers were bullet holes.

"I can't sleep."

John nodded. He was worked up. The man was actually upset. It was an odd sight to see Sherlock Holmes show human emotion. "Why is that?" John asked as he went to the kitchen. Might as well get a drink since he was here.

"No reason."

Yeah, John thought as he rolled his eyes. No reason. Non. Nothing at all. Bloody idiot. "Why not go to her?" Apparently, his question derailed Sherlock because the dart hit the lamp instead of the wall.

"We've talked about this, John. She needs to be free to make her own choices."

"Yes. But she doesn't have all the facts. How can she make a proper choice when she doesn't know how you feel?" Sherlock looked at him, saddened eyes red. Had…he been crying? "She means the world to you, Sherlock. Tell her how you feel!"

"What if she doesn't feel the same? Come on now, I'm …me."

"And she always laughs when you say stupid things to her that would make other girls angry. She thinks your ridiculous jokes are actually funny. She likes your blunt honesty. Likes that you're straight forward and don't beat around the bush. Jesus, sherlock, she makes you smile. She makes you have feelings. How many people can you say that about? She's special and it pisses me off that you're just going to let her go without even telling her how you feel."

Sherlock stood there, considering. The only other person he has feelings for is John. There was Irene. He supposed now he truly understands what those feelings were, but she was nothing compared to the feelings he has for John, and just a speck of the feelings he has for Eve. John was right. Eve made him feel emotions he never wanted to feel.

"I don't want them, John. I never wanted to feel these things."

"But you do. So what are you going to do about them? You think they will go away if she leaves?"

He'd hoped so. However, right now he felt sick to the stomach. His heart ached, and he felt like he might go mad not knowing what she was up too. Never had he cared about what someone else was up too. "She's changed a part of me I never wanted to be changed."

"She makes you human, Sherlock."

"I didn't want to be human, John!" Sherlock through the remanding darts he had in his hand at the wall. He didn't want this, yet here it was. The truth of things. He did love her, she did change him, and he didn't want her to go. "How do I know this won't pass?"

John laughed. "You don't have to jump all the way in, Sherlock. You don't have to marry the woman. But how can you date her and learn how far you'll go if she's across an ocean?"

* * *

Evelyn sat on the little love seat the hotel provided and sighed. She was so happy to be here with Oliver and Rachel. Thrilled that they were both safe and well. Thrilled that things will go back to normal. Still. She was sad. That made her felt bad.

"Can't sleep," Rachel asked, sitting next to her. She handed Eve a little styrofoam cup of the horrible coffee the hotel provided in the room.

"I'm fine," she gave a smile. "Just ready for the trip home to begin."

"Is that so you can know for sure that you went through with it?" Rachel asked as she sipped her own coffee and winced. "God that's horrible."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the coffee tastes bad," Rachel replied knowing well she was referring to the other thing.

Evelyn laughed. "No, I mean the other thing. About making sure I go through with it?"

"Ev…I've known you for years. We've been through a lot. Pregnancy, labor. Finding out Oliver was blind. Do you remember how scary that was?" She waved that away. "We learned how to handle that. We learned how to do a lot together. You've become my best friend. You're my son's mother. You gave me the greatest gift in the world. Do you really think I don't know you?"

Evelyn took a deep breath. She knew what Rachel was getting at. "I came here for you and Oliver and bring you guys home. That was my mission."

"Yes. And we are going home. We are safe."

"Rachel."

"Be selfish, Evelyn. Jesus, you worry so much over everyone else. You make sure everyone else is okay and well. What about you? What about your happiness?"

Evelyn looked at her hands. "I don't want to disappoint Oliver…"

"Bullshit. You're scared. You've fallen in love, and that has pushed you off the path you planned on taking and that scares the hell out of you. We will miss you, but both of us want you to be happy."

Evelyn shook her head as she ran through what it would be like if she were to stay. Could she really do it? "No..I'm not even sure Sherlock feels the same way. He so odd and hard to read sometimes."

Rachel looked at her with a smile and sincerity. "Take a leap, babe. You deserve this. For once in your life, leap."

The knock on the door startled both of them. Evelyn stood, alert and ready. She mouthed for Rachel to go to the bed where Oliver slept and picked up the pocket knife on her way to the door. "Coming," she called out. She looked through the peephole, braced.

"Sherlock?" She said as she opened the door. "It's four in the morning."

"I know," Sherlock said sounding as unsure as he looked. She saw him swallow. He was nervous.

"What are…"

"I don't do this. I…And I'm never speechless. I don't feel. I don't care and I don't love."

"Okay?"

"Accept I do. For you."

Her heart swelled and she laughed a little. "Are you saying that you love me?" she asked a little unsure.

He took her hands in his, opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, he pulled her to him and kissed her. At first, it was just lips on lips, but soon he was overtaken with emotion and he kissed her deeply, holding her so close it was as if he was trying to make her one with him. What was this feeling? This overwhelming feeling that had his senses on fire?

Eve was a little light-headed when they parted. That kiss made her belly flutter and her legs feeling like jello.

"I think I love you, yes." sherlock replied. "It's selfish of me to tell you, but John insisted you know all the facts before leaving and the fact is, I love you and I'm terrified about it."

She cried. It was silly. Maybe it was the feelings his kiss gave her. Never had she been kissed like that. With such tenderness and care.

"I've upset you?"

"No," she wiped at the tears. "I've never been touched or kissed by someone who loves me. It feels..."

He kissed her again. Just a quick kiss, but it had them both feeling a little breathless. "Stay, Eve. I don't know what this is or if it will last, but..please."

Eve could hear Rachel's squeals of delight coming from behind her. "Okay."

Shock covered his face. "Really?"

"Yes. Really."

He pulled her to him, the fear he'd been holding in his heart, lifting. "Thank you," he whispered, kissing the top of her head, and finding the need to do so odd. He was afraid of these newfound emotions. Unsure of how it would affect him in the future. However, Eve was here to stay, and at the moment that was enough. For the moment, feeling these emotions was okay with him. Mostly.

* * *

**Six months later**

"And here I thought you changed!" John shouted as he shook his head. Once again Sherlock had said something rude to Molly. She was here on Sherlock's request to report on her findings for their current John Doe, and he had to inform her that shirt she wore was unattractive. "You're such an arse."

"It's fine," Molly said as she fought back tears. "I'm used to it."

"It's not fine. Sherlock?"

"I'm sorry," he said, though, given his demander, he really wasn't.

"Anyway, there are no identifiable marks or anything to give us a clue as to who he is, but I don't think…" she stopped talking when there was a commotion down below. They all looked to the door when that commotion made it's way up the stairs.

"You're back." John smiled as Eve made her appearance. She'd left two weeks ago for Connecticut to visit Rachel and Oliver. "And you brought company," he added when the two popped up behind her.

"Yes and yes. They've decided to give London a try!" She was clearly delighted about this.

Molly was surprised when she glanced at sherlock. He was looking at Eve as if he'd never seen her before. His eyes softened and there was even a smile on his lips. "Welcome home."

"Thank you, Molly. How are you?"

"I'm good thanks." She eyes the shirt Eve was wearing. "Looks like we both have the same taste of clothing. Warning, Sherlock finds this shirt unattractive."

Eve laughed. "Does he?"

"Not at all. You look lovely, Eve." Sherlock went to her as he spoke, placing a kiss on her temple. "Welcome home."

"Oh," Rachel squealed.

"And you two. Welcome back." John said going to them. "I take it you'll be staying in the flat below?"

"Yes for a bit. Eve said she's often here anyway."

John smiled. Yes, she was often here. "Well, looks like this family just keeps getting bigger."

"Did you hear that mom?" Oliver said as he took her hand. Everyone looked at him, though he wouldn't know it. "We have a bigger family now."

Rachel smiled. "Oliver has been looking forward to getting to know you two. And Rosie. Eve has said so much about the three of you."

Sherlock tucked Eve into his side. Two weeks without her was really way too long. "Eve's family is my own," Sherlock replied.

Molly's mouth popped open. Was this for real? She'd never seen this side of Sherlock.

"Yes," John whispered to her. "Truly an amazing thing, isn't it?"

* * *

Soon it was Christmas again. They all were gathered together on Christmas morning doing gifts. Rachal insisted they do Christmas right, and no one cared much to argue with her.

It was rocky at first having Rachel and Oliver here. They all had to adjust to the personalities and whatnot, but Sherlock said he liked them both and Judging by the fact that Rachel and John often disappeared together, she assumed they were getting on just fine as well. Everyone adored Oliver, even Rosie.

Eve couldn't stop smiling at the sight before her. John sat on the floor next to Rachel and Oliver with Rosie in his lap. She was snuggled close to Sherlock who was slowly getting used to intimate contact like this. Rachel laughed at the silly Joke John said, and Rosie squealed over her newly opened toy.

"What's this?" Oliver asked when he opened his gift from Sherlock. "It feels like a book but there are bumps on it."

"It's brail. You read it with your fingers. I've learned how to do it, and decided to teach you."

Eve was moved, her eyes watering some as Oliver walked over to Sherlock and hugged him. "When can we start?"

Sherlock smiled. He had been unsure how the child would react to such a gift but was happy he seemed thrilled. Oliver might be blind, but the boy was smart. "Tomorrow."

"You hear that mom? Eve? I'm going to learn how to read!"

"You're amazing," Eve said, kissing Sherlock's cheek.

Sherlock blushed some, brushing it off. "He's a smart kid. I like smart children." He liked his children at least. Which he considered both Rosie and Oliver his. He found himself to be insanely proud of the two. Though the feeling made him a bit uneasy.

"This one is for Eve from Sherlock," John said as he handed the small box to her.

Eve smiled as she opened it, then her mouth popped open and her fingers went numb. This was… a ring. She was nervous as she looked at it. She wasn't…"

"Don't panic," Sherlock said quickly, reading her expression correctly. "This is not an engagement ring."

"Oh," she said, relieved but confused. She looked at the ring clearer now. It was beautiful. A single diamond in the middle of the band surrounded by Celtic design. It was stunning how something so detailed cold fit on something so small.

"It's a promise," Sherlock added.

"A promise?" She smiled when she understood. Not too long after she decided to say she told him that she is afraid to love. She'd never had love. Not the true kind. Never had a man loved her for who she was. She'd never been loved by hands that touched her, so loving Sherlock scared her. He's held her and told her that he promised his hands would always love her. He'd been embarrassed by his comment, but she loved the words he'd spoken.

She moved to him, hugging him. "Thank you. I love it and you."

He held her to him and kissed her. Things like this were becoming easier for him, but he was still unused to the way his body responded to hers when she was close. "I love you too."

"Oh get a room," John groaned when they kissed again, making them both laugh.

Eve smiled as Sherlock took her hand, gently. He promised. The ring on her finger meant more to her then any engagement ring could. Because this was his promise. To love her. She blushed as she thought about it. "I promise too."

They looked at each other, saying nothing because words were not needed. They spoke with their eyes. The, I love you, so obvious you could almost see the emotion settle around them. They both looked over when john stood and suggested they start lunch.

They followed everyone to the table they set up, food ready, and waiting. As they all sat around, laughing Eve was happier then she'd ever been. She was free, had a family, and a promise that meant the world.

_**The end** _

…..

**I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated. Thanks :D**


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